


sundown, sunrise

by cosmoscrow



Series: Tiger Cub [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Action/Adventure, Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit, Character Development, Family, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), Pirates, Sibling Bonding, So many tags, ace no, also i like my oc so much, found family trope is my JAM, haruta needs to stop encouraging thatch, i just wanna write some pirate adventures and explore family feels, izo has his shit together, oh yeah there is a kidnapping?, question mark only bc my writing seems to always have mind of its own and i am Concerned, someone give marco a raise he didn't sign up for this, someone stop thatch, there is lots of yelling, there will be some major feels?, this is honestly self indulging bc i think i'm funny, this is not how one recruits members, what a great start, whitebeard's crew is so big there are so many characters, you want someone to join your crew DON'T kidnap them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-03-08 23:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13468872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmoscrow/pseuds/cosmoscrow
Summary: They're fearless. And foolish. Whitebeard can't decide which one he likes more.or: Whitebeard picks up a stray, who is a tad more prickly than expected, but hey, they kept Ace so how much worse can they be? Marco actually doesn't really want to know.A new member appears to join, albeit reluctantly, also they're not really a member, they just need to hide. From the Marines. It's tiresome to deal with them. Long weeks are ahead, chaos ensues, and maybe it won't take so long for them to see that they fit right in.





	1. in which technically kidnapping happens

**Author's Note:**

> Salutations!
> 
> This is Crow, thank you for checking the story/series out! It had been in planning for a few months, it is completely self-indulgent and might therefore not always follow canon, but AUs will of course be tagged.  
> I always wanted to try my hand on the Whitebeard Pirates and their dynamic, because I truly am a sucker for the Found Family trope and I generally just have lots of feelings for the characters, so might as well write it down and cry over that. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy the journey with me!
> 
> Take care!  
> – Crow

* * *

 

His back was turned towards them. He also didn’t seem to have heard or sensed them at all, too  busy downing a huge gulp of sake while staring out onto the sea as he sat in the sand at the beach, listening to the waves as they gently lapped at the shore. The water never quite reached him, as if it knew he was an old friend of the ocean. Their knuckles turned white with how hard they gripped the hilt of the long dagger in their hand, menacingly staring at the infamous Edward Newgate aka _Captain_ _Whitebeard’s_ broad back.

This was it, this was their _chance_. A swift, well placed stab into the back, right into the spot where his heart beat and they would’ve defeated an emperor, a full-fledged yonko. And if that message crossed all the seas, then maybe… _maybe_ , they’d finally leave them alone.

Then, the Marines wouldn’t dare to chase after them no more.

( _In hindsight, it was a foolish plan, why yes, even borderline suicidal. Who in their right mind would even dare to try and assassinate one of the strongest yonko in the New World? But then again…they didn’t seem to care. To care about anything. Maybe that’s why– maybe that’s why, they called out to him._ )

“ _Edward Newgate_!” they bellowed, loud and clear that seagulls nearby squawked in surprise and quickly rose back into the sky, away from the upcoming tension and animosity. The huge man in question slowly lowered the bottle in his hand, settling it onto his knee. In the same leisure pace, his head turned to look over his shoulder at them; a small figure, a few feet away from him in a stance that screamed _Fight! Fight! Fight!_ with a glinting dagger in their hand. Under purple hair, covering their forehead, sat a deep maroon bandanna, wrapped around their head tightly.

Beneath the cloth, round black eyes glared with the intensity of a hunter, ready to bury their fangs into their prey. A vicious wildness sparked within the dark depths and Whitebeard narrowed his eyes slightly at the sight. 

“What brings a child such a look in their eyes?” he asked after a short silence, noting how his apparent opponent’s shoulders tensed up a little at the mention of ‘ _child_ ’. The old man glanced down to their dagger, confined within an iron, white-knuckled grip. The ocean swayed as calm and serene as ever, the rhythm of the waves not matching the hostile atmosphere – a near one-sided glaring contest between emperor and child. Seagulls shrieked overhead.

“I suppose, you have come for my head,” _or whatever you kids say these days_ , Whitebeard added silently, not at all bothered by the current situation unfolding as the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon, painting the sky in delightful orange and pink and casting shadows on both individuals at the beach. The hair protruding over the bandanna shadowed the dark eyes beneath, gifting the young one with a near demonic look as they readied the blade in their hand, taking a stance, ready to pounce.

“No,” they said haughtily with a look of murderous determination, that reminded the old man of a certain freckled face from not too long ago. “I’m here for your _heart_.”

With an impressive strength and speed they pushed off the sand and charged, a near animalistic snarl leaving their throat. Absolutely no hesitation, no second guessing. Fearless. _Foolish_.

And as they raced towards him, dagger in hand, Whitebeard grinned.

 

* * *

 

 

“Pops! You’re back!”

“Welcome back, Oyaji.”

“Good evening, Captain.”

A cacophony of greetings opened before him as soon as Whitebeard stepped aboard the Moby Dick, docked not too far from the beach he just left behind. They had stopped at the island for supplies, restocking their food and resources and just generally have a breather once in a while. Nurses immediately came bustling towards their captain, all worried voices and clipboards full of medical notes, but the man gently shooed them away – “I’m no weak old man, sweethearts, go crowd someone else, would ya?”. The women protested of course, but proceeded to go back to their previous tasks when Marco, who had passively sat on top of the railing and watched everything silently as ever, jumped down from his perch and approached his father, mildly interested eyes on the small bundle Whitebeard was carrying under his left arm, partially hidden by his coat.

“Hey, Pops,” he greeted casually before nodding his chin towards the small cargo, “what’cha got there?”

Whitebeard grinned, plopping himself down with his legs crossed as he laughed his thunderous laugh, effectively gaining everyones attention on deck. Thatch curiously leaned over the railing on the the galley, spatula in hand, while Izo sidled up next to him gracefully fanning himself with a beautiful paper fan. Sliding down a rope, Haruta landed on a railing in a crouch, usual mischievous grin on their face, their momentous thud awakening a snoring Ace, who had fallen asleep between two barrels of booze. He startled a bit with a slurred “ _Whuzzawhaaaat..?_ ” orange hat slipping from his unruly black hair but his freckled face immediately brightened when he saw Whitebeard.

“Oyaji!” he cheered until he noticed the growing crowd. “Huh? What’s going on?”

Still grinning, Whitebeard shortly surveyed his crew. 

“Brats!” he then exclaimed loudly, “I brought something back!”

And with that, he hauled the bundle he was carrying on deck, belatedly realising that he had used a tad too much force as it landed with a dull _thump!_ and a hissed “ _Ouch!_ ”. Oh well, it seemed they were still alive and kicking, seeing how the small figure immediately scrambled up to their feet with a near feral scowl on their face.

Marco merely raised an eyebrow; he’d seen that look from somewhere, that look of undeniable challenge, of mistrust and wariness, that underlying fear so well concealed behind a mask of dark fury. How one deals with the feeling of being scared, varies from person to person – some give in to the panic, the fear, and others…others conceal it, exchange it with a different emotion. And in this case, _they get angry_.

The crowd around them started to murmur.

“Is that a kid?”

“Judging by the size, I guess?”

“What does Pops want with a kid?”

The kid whipped around, teeth bared in a clear sign of red hot hostility, the shadows around their eyes darkening as they glowered into the mass around them.

“I’m not a _kid_!” they snarled and some members even recoil at the unexpected ferocity. Marco watched how small bunched up shoulders shook slightly, obviously under the strain of tension. Their feet were apart, legs bent lightly, their whole posture screamed for a fight and with a quick look around, Marco noted how the other commanders took notice about it too, watching the stranger like preying hawks, ready to strike if necessary.

Slowly, the whole crew formed a curious circle around the unwilling newcomer, a quiet murmur still making its rounds as the kid’s eyes flitted around shiftily.

_Looking for a possible exit, huh?_ Marco thought, now standing next to Whitebeard, who was still grinning down at the stranger.

“See this, feisty one?” he asked, gesturing to his people, “This is my crew. And this is my ship, lovely lady, ain’t she?”

He laughed loudly, patting the wood under him and his young opponent frowned.

“What are you playing, old man,” they spat venomously, “trying to gain some home field advantage?”

A small, indignant uproar started within the crowd.

“Watch your mouth, kid!”

“This is Captain Whitebeard you’re talking to!”

Izo clicked with his tongue. “Great, another rude one,” he bemoaned behind his paper fan as Thatch snickered. Whitebeard on the other hand, didn't seem perturbed at all, he actually looked amused as he leaned forward, hands on his knees.

“Still adamant on taking my heart, brat?”

The crowd started laughing.

“How cute!” they howled, “Junior wants to steal Pops’ heart!”

Marco intently watched the kid, whose purple hair shadowed their face slightly – they didn’t seem embarrassed and as they lifted their head slightly, the commander saw pure destruction in their eyes.

“Hell yeah I’ll steal your heart,” the kid growled and there is a sudden flash of silver, that had Marco move his feet further apart, “I’ll _rip_ it straight out of your chest, Newgate!”

The laughter died down and was almost instantly replaced by shouts as the kid ducked forward, dashing straight towards Whitebeard, dagger in one hand. Still smirking, the captain only leaned forward, reaching out with one hand, ready to simply flick the kid away like he had done before. The kid seemed to recognise the move, however, and Thatch couldn’t help but lift an eyebrow, impressed; with the help of some swift footwork, the kid evaded the oncoming hand, actually _daring_ to jump onto Whitebeard’s arm. A jump that seemed a little too practised, too refined, especially the jumping power, which Marco found way too precise for a simple human child. Said child released an almighty war cry, which made Ace’s hair on his neck stand up straight – that barely sounded like a regular scream. 

The kid leaped again, dagger ready in their hands and Whitebeard scoffed a little as he made the move to grab the kid with his other hand, when his eyes met rounder, younger ones and – _huh, interesting_. 

With slightly raised brows, he plucked the small assailant from the air, almost centimetres away from his face. The kid yelped, dwarfed by the sheer size of his hand, but immediately began to struggle within the hold, only to lose the dagger.

“Oh crap!” they wheezed as the captain caught the weapon and then letting the kid fall back onto the deck, similar to the very first time their face had kissed the wooden planks not a few minutes before. Spluttering angrily, they sat up on all fours, looking a little worse for wear but apparently their attitude was just fine as they let go of a few colourful strings of curses, that had one or three crew members blushing in mortification. The rest just cheered at the small show of strengths.

 

Whitebeard grinned again, twirling the small dagger between his fingers, before crushing the flimsy thing like a twig. The kid looked offended and Haruta huffed.

“Oh c’mon, Pops, that was a waste of a good dagger,” they complained, crossing their arms as their captain laughed.

“ _Gurarararara_! There will be plenty left at sea, I promise you, my child,” he said, throwing the useless shards overboard as the kid hissed. Now on their knees with their hands balled into tight fists, the young one continued to glare at everyone through their curtain of purple hair, that had Izo mumble something about ‘ _early wrinkles_ ’ next to Thatch.

( _Oh young heart, lost your battle, not? A foolish plan, set upon such fragile hope, they thought they had long forgot. In the end, they could only blame themselves for such wishful thinking, to dream, to hope…might as well pay with death._ ) 

Oh, Marco knew _that_ grin. The mischievous glint in his eyes with a wide grin, teeth and all and the phoenix could only sigh at what was to come next. Ace, who had since joined his side, still looked on curiously, grey eyes trained onto their… _guest_. Well, not much longer and they won’t be a guest anymore. But then again, that depends on their choice.

Wind softly brushed through his hair and a sudden realisation hit him; to confirm his suspicions, Marco glanced down the railing of the ship and could barely contain a small grin of his own. It looked like Oyaji had used one of his dirty tricks again and with how the current temper of the kid played out, the shortstack certainly won’t like it.

“You little fool, you really think you could take me? You are at least three decades too young for that.” Whitebeard declared loudly, grinning down onto the kid, who only sneered. “However, I admire your dedication and determination – especially on someone as curious as you, child.”

The kid got onto their feet, scoffing, before crossing their arms across their chest, obviously not impressed at all, yet they still looked guarded. They eyed the captain distrustfully.

“What are you trying to say, old man?” they spat and the crew slowly started to think, that the kid had a particular death wish, disrespecting one of the most powerful people in the world like that _with_ said powerful person’s whole loyal _crew_ surrounding them. Whitebeard continued to grin however, pleased to see that the young one hasn’t lost their spine yet.

“Join my crew, you spitfire,” he offered, gesturing towards his crew, “and become one of my sons.”

 

( _Well, this was certainly worse than death._ )

 

While the crew started to grin together with the commanders, Ace was mildly confused to find that the ‘young spitfire’ stared at the captain in a manner that could only be described as horrified disgust.

“ _What?!_ ” they shrieked, hand whipping forward to point accusingly at the large man. “First you flick me away like some fly, then drag me off onto your ship against my will and then break my weapon – now you expect me to just _join_ you?”

They looked positively enraged as Whitebeard grinned. “Why yes, I’d say that’s quite the honour–“

“I’ll stick that supposed ‘ _honour_ ’ up to where the sun doesn’t shine, banana-stache!” The kid yelled and Marco tiredly glanced up to the sky, as if to pray to any deity out there that this kid won’t be as much of a handful like they seemed to be – at least don’t make them try to kill his captain every few times during the week. The crew itself started to sweat.

“As if I’d want to join your stupid crew–“ someone let out an indignant ‘ _Hey!_ ’ within the crowd– “or become one of your _daughters_ –“

The kid immediately shut up, lips sucked in and looking vaguely caught and Ace suddenly saw a younger Luffy with such an identical expression, he couldn’t help but snort, until the words caught up to him.

“Wait, what–“ he wheezed and next to him, Marco only raised his brows as a female voice piped up from somewhere within the crowd.

“Aw, heck yeah, about time we’re getting a new sister!” the voice cheered, joined by a few more women within the crew. A new murmur made it’s rounds.

“A girl? I mean, it’s not like it’s a problem,”

“Yeah, but isn’t she like, 12 or something?”

The spitfire in question whirled around, eyes ablaze. “ _I’m 15, you assholes_!” she hissed before shutting up and sucking her lips back in like before, sweating. The whole ordeal had Thatch wheezing over the railing, barely holding on to his spatula as he tried to breathe between his hysterical laughter, while Izo continued to watch the crowd, delicately red painted lips pursed in thought.

“Screw this,” the kid growled, clearly embarrassed about having revealed already too much about herself, “I’m outta here!”

Agitated beyond belief, she marched past the crowd, who formed a path to the railing. She was ready to hoist herself onto the wood, when she looked up in confusion. Wind softly played with her hair as waves lapped at the sides of the Moby Dick, all the while the island they previously had docked on steadily grew farther and farther from the ship. It went quiet for a while and Whitebeard snickered a little at his own cunningness. 

Then, the kid climbed back down onto the deck, whirling around to march back into the center of the crowd and Marco vaguely had the feeling, that the kid might combust on the spot, judging by how much their frame shook in poorly concealed fury. Naturally, she exploded and the phoenix might just admit, how mildly fascinating it was to him how such a tiny person could be so _loud_.

“ _This is kidnapping!_ ” she shrieked anew, looking like an angry Namur, it nearly had Haruta and Rakuyo in tears as they both clung to a mildly amused Jozu. Thatch guffawed, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes as he leaned onto the railing, grinning down onto the girl.

“Yeah? Why not call the Marines then, shortstack?” he sniggered as the rest of the crew started to laugh too.

“As if,” she spat venomously as she crossed her arms, “those clowns are useless anyway for any sort of their supposed justice, besides, I don’t need them catching me too–“

She immediately fell to the floor, punching the wood repeatedly, while she let go of a muffled cry of frustration of having revealed too much _again_. Meanwhile, half of the crew had joined in on her screaming concert, sticking their hands out in confusion and horror.

“ _You have a bounty?!_ ” they yelled in unison, and Marco belatedly took notice, that Ace was now part of the screaming fest too, having vanished from his side. The 1st Commander sighed, stepping up next to his captain, who seemed highly amused by everything that has been going on. The man grinned down at his son, who smiled half-heartedly up at him.

“Was it worth it, Oyaji?” he asked, more about the racket really. The old man chuckled deeply.

“I know you saw it too, my son,” he said, sharp eyes zeroed onto the young teen, who was currently yelling at everyone to mind their own business, “the fire, the spirit in her eyes, maybe a bit clouded by fury and hatred, but there is something there. Something that is worth saving, something that can be honed into greatness.”

Marco could definitely not deny that, because he had indeed seen it; the thunder and lightning crackling just beneath her skin, an undeniable fire blazing in her dark eyes – she reminded him of Ace, just angrier. And tinier. But it definitely added up to the vague feeling of familiarity Marco had felt when he saw her for the first time. He just hoped they won’t end up _too_ similar.

The subject in question, meanwhile, seemed busy warding off unwanted questions about her supposed bounty, when Ace appeared in front of her, looking excited despite the previous yelling.

“Hey,” he greeted brightly, “since you’re probably gonna join anyway, I should introduce myself!”

“Who said I was going to join!” the kid screeched, offended as Ace grinned completely ignoring her statement.

“I’m Ace! You probably know me as Fire Fist Ace–“

“Fire Foot Trace? Never heard of ‘em, sounds like a weird name.”

“ _That’s not even close to my name_!”

Whitebeard let go of thunderous laugh, successfully catching everyone’s attention once again. He focused on the youngest, eyes bright and sharp with a smug grin on his lips.

“It looks like we could find some common ground after all,” he said as he sat up at full height, looking proud, “we don’t particularly like the Marines either, so why not stay with us? There is no safer place on the sea for a young child with a bounty like you than with us, they won’t be able to catch you that easy here.”

The commanders had moved to each side of their father, all proud grins on their faces as the young teen surveyed them warily, looking like she was actually considering the idea. She was mildly surprised to see the freckled– was it Fire Foot? No, Fire Elbow, right? Whatever, he looked barely older than her, standing between two commanders, looking just as proud as the rest.

They all looked close, she could see it, and an old bitterness rose within her, but she squashed that feeling quickly by letting go of an exasperated sigh, obviously annoyed with all this development. How did everything go so wrong? She might as well take what she could get, once again eyeing the Whitebeard Pirates, mistrust clear in her eyes as she squared her shoulders.

“ _Fine_ ,” she bit out, “I’ll stay.”

 

( _Take what you can get, luck only lasts for so long, use it, benefit from it, and you might survive._ )

 

“Great!” one commander with a ridiculous pompadour cheered. “It’s not like you could go anywhere else anyway, pipsqueak. Welcome to the Whitebeards, little sister!”

“It’s Quartz,” she shot back, ignoring the previous jab.

“Huh?”

“My name,” she repeated, moodily stuffing her hand into the pockets of her teal jacket, “it’s Quartz.” 

Behind his commanders– his _children_ , Whitebeard grinned, brightly.

 

( _How long will you last this time, oh young heart?_ )

.

.

.

“ _And I’m not your little sister, jackass_!”


	2. in which unnecessary stubbornness exists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco knows only two things about the brat; her age and her name.
> 
> Even though he thinks the latter might be wrong too.

* * *

 

It has been approximately four days after the kid’s– _Quartz_ ’ arrival and Marco has yet to know more about the spitfire, besides her name and age. Admittedly, he still had the inkling that the name itself wasn’t actually her real one, but he was never one to pry. However, it didn’t mean that it didn’t frustrate him.

Just a little.

Okay fine, he _might_ be a tad paranoid, he already told himself plenty of times that he had no need to, because for one; the crew and literally everyone else on this ship could handle themselves just fine, and for two; Quartz was a 15-year old teenager barely making it to Pops’ knees in height with the personality of a someone who bit into a lemon and never recovered. He shouldn’t be that concerned.

Except he was, which was why he was sitting on a barrel, eyes trained onto the newest not-so-member-but-still-kinda-a-member, who was mopping the deck not far off. 

Crew members, to Marco’s half-amused disbelief, had actually pulled straws to decide, who would get to tell the kid that it was her turn on scrubbing the deck clean. Marco was talking about men, big and burly and most certainly double of Quartz’ age, apparently being terrified on assigning a mandatory task to a teenager half their size. But then again, spitfire had displayed quite the temper that nearly matched Izo’s, granted if you mess with his prized fabrics and/or make up first. It certainly surprised Marco to see, that Quartz seemed actually rather quiet, or more or less withdrawn. After the ‘disastrous’ first day, the kid decided to stick with the shadows instead, not joining anyone during dinner, hell, the phoenix has yet to see her step a foot into the galley for food. No matter how early Marco rose from sleep, the teen seemed already out and about, usually climbing the shrouds and walking along the sails.

The first time he had seen her up there, his heart nearly set out until he noticed her leisure pace, not appearing to be alarmed at all by the height.

Marco suspected the kid was still distrustful about everything around her, which was fine, he guessed, but he couldn’t help that small twinge of worry – was the kid eating at all? Sleeping properly? The nurses had reported that the additional bed they had set up in their quarters has yet to be touched. Marco sighed.

Ace had been a different story; the boy was loud about his situation, abrasive and dead set on killing Whitebeard, only to fail at every single attempt. Quartz? Despite her temper, she was a quiet presence; did her part during the day, albeit grumpily, only spoke when spoken to, albeit rudely, and seemed to just disappear during the evening, only to reappear early in the morning.

He silently watched how Quartz soaked the mop in the nearby bucket again, before dropping it back on deck and scrubbing anew. Marco tilted his head to the side a little, before finally speaking up.

“You missed a spot,”

She stopped, gripping the mop a bit harder than intended to and sent him a dark look.

“Shut it, Pineapple,”

 _Why does everybody insist on calling me that_ , Marco thought irritated.

“The name’s Marco, yoi,” he said instead, mildly annoyed look on his face. Kid had the gall to give him a weirded out look of annoyance.

“Did I ask?”

“You did now,” Marco shot back, trying to hide a smirk when the kid caught herself and growled, aggressively scrubbing along the wood, muttering something under her breath. “By the way, if you’re done with cleaning; the rigging ropes need to be coiled properly, be sure not to mix up the ropes, kid.”

He pointed towards the row of belaying pins near the railing, nearly all of them overflowing with haphazardly thrown on coils of rigging ropes. Quartz stared at the pins and Marco played with the thought, that she might try to set them on fire by sheer willpower alone. In the end, however, she just let go of a heavy sigh before returning to mop the deck.

“I hate this fucking ship…”

 

* * *

 

After a rather unspectacular day of just sailing vast ocean, evening rolled around as the word ‘ _DINNER!_ ’ was hollered into the cooling night air. Marco hung back a little as everyone else made a mad scramble towards the galley, cheering at the thought of some good grub. Ace dashed past him, orange hat bouncing around his neck as he grinned widely.

“Hey Marco!” he called, turning around to slow into a backwards jog. “You coming or not? I heard Thatch made that Fried Rice you like so much!”

Marco chuckled at the younger’s enthusiastic antics.

“Go ahead, I wanna find the little spitfire first,”

Ace stopped completely at that, eyes wide in confusion.

“You mean Quartz? I think I saw her near the shrouds not too long ago,”

 _Well, that makes everything easier_ , the phoenix thought with raised eyebrows, but he thanked the freckled teen before waving him off.

“Don’t die!” Ace called cheerfully over his shoulder, as he made a beeline for the galley.

Marco couldn’t help but roll with his eyes a little, amused. He walked along the railing, gazing upwards to the shrouds of ropes, searching for a certain brat. Then, in the last rays of the sunset, he spotted purple hair and a teal jacket; Quartz sat a few metres up in one of the multiple rope squares, body angled slightly sideways as she gripped the top rope of the square with one hand, dark eyes set onto the horizon. Underneath her, the row of belaying pins had been cleaned up, coiled ropes neatly secured to the wooden pins. That brought a small smile to Marco’s lips as he leaned forward on his arms, placing them on the railing near Quartz, watching silently how the sun sunk before them. He glanced up.

“It’s dinner time, squirt.”

The kid grunted.

“I ain’t deaf,” she muttered into the high collar of her jacket, “and don’t call me ‘squirt’, Pineapple.”

“It’s Marco, yoi,”

“Sure,”

The commander fixed her with a half-hearted glare. She didn’t spare him a glance however, and continued to stare into the waters before them. Marco couldn’t quite place the look in her eyes, half of her face buried behind the high collar – it wasn’t quite melancholy, but rather this silent resignation and reluctant acceptance. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, she certainly didn’t seem like she was afraid of them; funnily enough, some of the older crew members seemed to uncomfortably skirt around _her_ most of the time, but that could be because Quartz’ default expression always looked like she just came back from murdering a man with her bare hands. The constant shadows her bandanna and hair casted over her face certainly did not help either.

“You know, the food’s not poisoned or anything,” he tried again, “Thatch would never allow for something like that to ever happen, yoi.”

The reply he got was an annoyed huff, and as he looked up, he found Quartz staring down at him balefully.

“I don’t want it,” she said, now standing on the ropes, “now lay off, it’s not like I’m gonna stay here forever.”

With that, she reached up and started to climb further up the shrouds, away from Marco, who stared after her, slightly baffled.

He couldn’t help but ask, “What do you mean?”

Quartz stopped, grumbling a little.

“It means; as soon as you pirates are docking on some island, I’ll be gone.” She then glared at him over her shoulder. “Now _leave me alone_.”

Marco stayed silent as he watched the kid climb up to find a higher spot to sit in, hopefully undisturbed for the rest of the evening. He sighed deeply, looking back out onto the sea. After a few minutes, he pushed himself off the railing and decided to get dinner, not without throwing one last glance at Quartz.

She just stared blankly ahead.

 

* * *

 

Rambunctious laughter rang out into the night, followed by drunken sea shanties clumsily sung off key, it made Quartz wince at the crack in the sailors voices. It was already well into the night as some crew members stumbled out the galley, trying to make their way towards their barracks as much as their drunk asses allowed them. The kid couldn’t help but snicker into her collar, when she watched how one pirate kept circling the base of the main mast, hands on the wood and tears in his eyes as he cried something about being walled in. Another, clearly more sober, pirate came along and tugged the other away by his ear, exasperation written all over his face.

A loud gurgling noise made Quartz look away from the drunken scene and she quickly put a hand on her stomach, as if she was afraid someone might hear it. She gritted her teeth; yes, she was hungry, impossibly so, having not eaten much during her four days here. Yesterday she managed to sneak into the galley in the early morning and swipe a few bread rolls – they weren’t much, but enough to quell her hunger for a good while. 

 _You don’t need their food_ , she angrily thought to herself, shifting slightly on the ropes she sat on.

 _You don’t need anyone_.

 _Don’t rely on anyone_.

“You can only trust yourself,” Quartz mumbled quietly under her breath, almost like a mantra. She swept her gaze over the deck again to make sure, that she was alone before she started to climb down from her perch. It was late enough for most of the crew to hit the hay, allowing enough time for the kid to sneak around and find a good place to sleep – like hell she’s gonna sleep in that room full of strangers, she learned the hard way that such naivety could end in a disaster. Shaking her head to get rid of upcoming unwanted memories, she hopped off the railing, only to flail clumsily when she nearly stepped on a tray placed on the floor near the belaying pins.

On the tray was a plate topped off with a meal consisting of what smelled like fried rice, steamed greens, at least three big slices of ham and a small pool of gravy. Next to the plate sat a cup of juice and two fruits: one apple and one peach, both fresh and ripe and almost the size of her fist.

She stared at the food dumbly for a minute, unsure what to do – there’s no way someone accidentally placed the tray here, the food was still warm too, as if someone had just recently sat it down, exactly in a place where it could be found by her– she began to scowl.

“Stupid pineapple…” she muttered and with a huff, she turned on her heel, ready to march away from the offending tray. Quartz took about three steps, when her stomach growled again. She froze, nearly doubling over as she held her stomach.

She was so _hungry_.

With her lips pressed together into a thin line, she glared at the food over her shoulder, trying her hardest to ignore the tempting aroma of the food wafting through the air as her mouth began to water.

There was even _meat_.

Her instincts screamed; _Free Food! Free Food! Free Food!_ And meanwhile her conscious hissed; _Trap! Trap! Trap!_

The noisy gurgle from her stomach emerged again, this time sounding a lot more urgent, as if it knew that a full meal sat just a few feet away. Quartz bit her bottom lip and sank into a crouch, curling into herself, allowing herself a rare moment of vulnerability as she contemplated through the haze of hunger. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing deeply, it sounded almost like a sigh. Then, she stood up and turned back to the tray.

 

* * *

 

Marco woke up to someone knocking at his door, before it swung open and welcomed the sound of geta sandals on wood into his room. The phoenix yawned.

“Rise and shine, brother,” Izo singsonged pleasantly, already sifting through Marco’s clothes to find him a clean shirt. Normally the blond bristled at the invasion of his privacy, but this is Izo, and Izo usually got what he wanted by batting his pretty eyes a few times or just with the pure power alone that one glare of him held. Also, because Marco loved and appreciated his brother, who took it upon himself to ensure that everyone had appropriate clothes to wear. Talking about clothes;

“Oh my,” Izo said, just as Marco sat up in his hammock, scratching tiredly at his scruffy jaw, “you haven’t worn this shirt in a while.”

Looking up, he spotted his brother holding up a dark navy blue shirt, one of the few nicer shirts he owned, so he doesn’t really wear them too often. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh?” he just said, brain still in the process of waking up properly. Izo chuckled before draping the shirt over Marco’s shoulders, so he could slip his arms in, while Izo busied himself tidying his brother’s desk by shuffling loose papers into neat piles.

“It should be dawn by now,” he informed the 1st commander, placing a pencil into the designated cup on the desk, “no islands or enemy ships spotted yet, no sign of the Navy either and the weather is supposed to be nice today too.”

He turned around smiling, his thick black hair spilling like ink over his shoulder, open and loose instead of being tied back into a neat knot like usually. Izo liked to air his hair out in the morning before tying them together during the day. His makeup has been already placed, thin black lines accentuating his narrow, chestnut-brown eyes and his lips have been delicately painted in a dark red.

Marco, who had been nodding along to Izo’s information while fixing his sleeves up to his elbows, smiled back at him, still a little drowsy.

“Nice makeup,” he then said, finally standing up and stretching, “is that a new colour?”

Visibly flattered, Izo brought a hand up to his cheek, angling himself a little into a pose.

“Oh, so you noticed? I found this superb new lip stick at the last island we docked at…” his delighted voice trailed off as he walked out of Marco’s quarters, said blond following him dutifully as they reached the still empty deck. It was still early, the sun barely peeked over the horizon, only a few pirates on morning duty and natural early risers where seen mingling around on deck. 

It was a clear morning, the air slightly cool, followed by a light breeze that brushed through Marco’s bedhead and played softly with Izo’s black strands. They both oversaw the morning duties their divisions had been assigned to, when Marco suddenly straightened up with a small sound of realisation slipping past his lips. Izo sent him a curious look.

“I just remembered something,” the blond told him, before taking the stairs to walk towards the shrouds port of the ship. When Izo caught up with him, he found Marco crouching in front of a tray on the floor.

“What is this?” he asked, curiously leaning over the shoulder of his brother.

“Food,” Marco sighed, lifting the tray, “I left some for the brat, looks like she wasn’t so hungry after all…”

“Is that so…” Izo hummed before smirking a little as he pointed towards the food – or what was left of it. “Look again, brother.”

While the fried rice and, understandably, the steamed greens have been left untouched, all of the juice had been drunk, judging by the empty cup. Only one ham slice remained, so did the apple, but the peach was nowhere to be found. The phoenix made a small but satisfied sound – so it hadn’t been a complete waste. He stood up, tray in hand, mentally contemplating on what to do with the leftover food. He wasn’t sure if it was still good enough to eat, if Thatch saw him throwing it away, he’d surely have a fit about Marco wasting food. He was about to ask Izo for suggestions, when he noticed that his brother hadn’t stopped smirking, this time directed towards him with a knowing glint in his eyes.

Internally, Marco groaned.

“Don’t–“

“Looks like _someone_ already got a soft spot for the brat,”

The blond had to will down a light blush under his brother’s prodding gaze as he bristled slightly.

“No I don’t,”

“Sure you do,”

“I don’t,”

“Okay, Marco,”

“Izo, I really don’t,”

“Oh, I believe you,”

 _No, you don’t_ , Marco thought, unwilling and maybe slightly embarrassed to continue this conversation. Izo has yet to wipe that knowing smirk off of his face, so the phoenix decided to ignore it.

“Also, about the food; Ace might eat it without asking too many questions.”

 

* * *

 

Ace _did_ eat the leftovers, faltering slightly mid-chew before commenting on how salty and cold it tasted. Marco just shrugged and feigned ignorance as Ace gobbled up all the evidence.

Later during the day, Marco only caught a few flashes of the kid doing her chores. Around late afternoon, he found her surrounded by at least three nurses, all of them bending down to her height, prodding and poking her with worried faces, most definitely asking questions about her health and nightly whereabouts.

Quartz looked painfully uncomfortable by all the attention, but tried hard not to instinctively swipe at every hand coming down to examine her. Marco couldn’t help the amused quirk in his lips as he walked past and let them be.

He left another tray at the same spot; mashed potatoes, broccoli and a thick steak covered in gravy, together with another cup of juice, a pear and two peaches.

 

The cup was left half-full next to the lonely pear and the two peaches were missing. Also, a big chunk was straight up bitten from the steak, it made Marco wonder if the kid’s jaw was alright.

He later caught her nibbling on a peach, curled up in herself and hidden behind a few barrels.

That evening he left the juice, a big bowl of soup and three peaches.

 

The soup and juice were left untouched; the peaches, however, were gone.

Marco smiled.

 

* * *

 

It has been a week after Quartz’ arrival and Marco knew approximately three things about the half-pint; her age, her name ( _albeit questionable_ ) and apparently, her fondness for peaches. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but with his latest breakthrough, Marco seemed confident – the brat would warm up soon enough.

“What’s with that self-satisfied look on your face, Birdy?”

Marco blinked before facing Haruta, who squinted suspiciously at him over the top of their cards – right, card game. The phoenix looked back down at his own cards, casually shrugging with one shoulder.

“Nothing,” he mused as he watched how Ace nervously picked a card from Jozu’s hand, “just thinking.”

“Whoa, careful with that,” Thatch next to him joked, which earned him a nudge from Marco’s foot as Ace groaned at whatever card he picked, while Haruta commented on how they could read him like an open book and that he should start getting his ‘ _shit together, winning against you all the time is becoming to be boring, Ace_ ’.

An argument sparked over the table, which had Jozu sighing and Marco turning to his right.

“Hey Thatch,”

The cook glanced over, curious.

“We still have peaches, right?”


	3. in which first steps were made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quartz didn't do rules.
> 
> But she had her own ones instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations!
> 
> The third chapter is finally here, it took a little longer than expected since I intended to be longer but it ended up a lot longer than desired, so I had to cut back a bit. It worked out in the end, so I hope you enjoy this chapter; thank you for all your kudos!!
> 
> Have a great day and take care!  
> – Crow

* * *

Generally, Quartz followed three very simple rules, which she had set for herself with her way of life – under no circumstances were they there to be broken, those were probably the only rules she’d ever follow;

One – Do not rely on anyone.

Two – Do not trust anyone, only yourself.

Three – Never stay in one place for too long.

It was halfway through her 2nd week on the Moby Dick and Quartz was sure, she broke at least, like, _all_ of her rules.

She groaned unhappily, slipping a few belly into the coin pouch of the news coo in front of her; today, she was stationed at the small ‘postal service’ of the ship, collecting mail and the local news from all the coos, while paying them appropriately with the money provided. It…was actually a clever thing to have such a service on the ship, it made receiving mail a lot easier by collecting them all in the same spot where anyone could come and pick their mail up – it really helped that everything was organised alphabetically too, but she tried to stay away from the counter as often as possible.

Reading…wasn’t something she was too skilled at.

But nobody had to know that and she’d rather fight a seaking head on in a small dinghy on open sea, than admit to that particular piece of trivia. As if she’s about to give those pirates more ammo.

Sighing, she took the first newspaper from today out of the pouch of a particular hyper looking coo, who jumped around excitedly at his job well done.

“Yeah, yeah, good job, buddy…” Quartz murmured as she got the bird to finally sit still enough for her to drop the coins into his pouch. Absentmindedly, she gave him a few scritches under his chin, an action for which she got a happy squawk, as she quickly scanned the newspaper – she immediately skipped the various blocks of text and went straight to the wanted posters. She flicked through the pictures.

Nope.

Nah.

Nada.

No.

No.

A quiet, almost relieved sigh left her lips as she reached the end of the posters. It looked like the trail hadn’t followed her here, she had yet to see that damn poster of hers – 

At the last poster, she froze.

A familiar face decorated with freckles and a rather impish grin stared back at her, hell, he’s even wearing that nerdy cowboy hat of his. Quartz looked at the bounty and _wow_ , those were a lot of zeroes. No wonder he was the 2nd commander of the crew, with a bounty as big as this, he was bound to be strong enough to be recognised as a serious threat by the marines. She briefly wondered what he had done – besides being a pirate and his atrocious sense of fashion. As far as she knew, he seemed pretty well-known and was a devil-fruit user.

With a _flap!_ she closed the newspaper, done with her check-up as she carelessly tossed the paper onto the desk for anyone to pick up. The news coo made another sound and for a few seconds, she petted the animal a little more before sending it off, only to receive another bird. It caught her off guard with its hasty wings and ended up crashing right into her face.

 

* * *

 

Quartz still wasn’t exactly sure how the hierarchy worked on the Moby Dick, but she had been keeping a close eye to her surroundings and all the interactions within – Whitebeard was, of course, the unquestioned captain, the believed future king, or the most popular description of him on board; a father to all of his men. 

She had snorted at that one in particular.

The commanders were 16 in total, all of them with their own divisions on the ship – the crew was really _that_ big, Quartz was mildly impressed. The commanders themselves acted as an authority extension to Whitebeard himself, but she had noticed how the 1st commander seemed to be the unofficial head of all of the commanders, judging by how often he was involved in everything happening on the ship. She deducted the pineapple must be the old man’s right hand man, never straying too far when the captain was out and about, while surrounded by dozens of nurses at all times. 

Quartz usually did her best avoiding the nurses. Whenever they set their eyes on her, they immediately come chase her down to prod and question her relentlessly, followed by them pinching and affectionately tugging her cheeks. It honestly was a little humiliating, especially when Quartz had done nothing to elicit this kinda reaction to use for her advantage – it all was decisively unprompted and the teen had literally no clue on how to handle women at least 8 years her senior calling her, out of all things, adorable ‘in a scary way’.

Where was she going with this, she had a point.

Grumbling a little to herself, Quartz shuffled the scrap wood into their designated shelves. After her morning shift at the postal service, the 1st commander introduced her to the 9th commander Blenheim, a hulking man with a long thin braid, who had hunkered down a bit to get a good look at the teen – she had to refrain herself from whipping her foot out to get a good crack on his kneecaps after she realised he was trying to accomodate to her non-existent height.

It wasn’t her fault that everyone on this goddamn ship decided to surpass the average height of 5’6ft and leave her to trudge along for the ride with her measly 5’2ft.

Honestly, what do they _eat_?

Whatever Blenheim had been seeking for in her, he seemed to have found it when he had motioned for her to follow him beneath deck. And that is how she ended up helping out in the workshop of the shipwrights all afternoon, clearing the workspace, rearranging and passing around tools and generally hanging around scrap wood and saw dust, that had her sneezing a couple of times.

“…– _tchoo_ ,”

It was a quiet sneeze, slightly muffled by how Quartz immediately stuffed her face into her collar as soon as she felt the telltale tickle in her twitching nose. Blenheim heard it anyway.

“Bless you,” he said politely, pausing in his work to check on the teen, who could feel her cheeks burn a little at being heard.

She grumbled something, the commander wasn’t sure what, but he took it as a thanks anyway, seeing as how the brat didn’t resort to her usual defensive stance by puffing up like an angry cat and hissing like one too. He counted it as a small win as her resumed his work on a broken canon he had been repairing.

The whole afternoon, the teen had been a quiet presence; shuffling from place to place, keeping her head tucked into her collar as if to make herself shorter, never uttering a word whenever she was given a new order. Her skittish behaviour astounded Blenheim a little – despite her spitfire attitude and hot temper, she now seemed almost nervous, eyes constantly flitting around the workshop, lingering on the exits a little longer than necessary. The commander was playing with the thought that she might have claustrophobia, but her whole demeanour appeared too measured, too practised.

It was as if she was expecting something to happen which might require for her to bolt out of the room as soon as possible.

He didn’t bring attention to it, not wanting the brat to clam up even more – word amongst the commanders had it, that Marco had a small breakthrough with the kid just recently, a feat that allowed the phoenix to hold, albeit brief, conversations with her that didn’t trail off awkwardly. She was still snarky though, but hey, it was at least _something,_ so Blenheim was careful not to ruin his brother’s previous endeavours on getting the kid to open up.

Even if the effort looked like Marco needed at least 3 crowbars to do so.

However, the afternoon with Quartz hadn’t been unpleasant at all in Blenheim’s opinion; she did her part just well and seemed to be already familiar with the majority of the tools in the workshop, handing them to him wordlessly whenever he asked for a particular tool without him having to point out which one. He also appreciated her putting the tools back into their correct order after use, instead of leaving them lying around in a mess like most of his siblings did.

The commander cleaned his hands on a rag nearby, when the long-awaited call for dinner rang out into the evening. And as predicted, everyone in the workshop immediately stopped in what they were doing and made a mad scramble for the exits, leaving everything behind in a mess that had Blenheim sighing. The prospect of food seemed to hold such great power over the crew, it was honestly a little terrifying as he watched how Quartz yelped a little after nearly being trampled to death when she tried to cross with a box of tools in her arms.

“Morons…” he heard her mutter angrily as she made her way around the mini-stampede to push the crate in her arms into one of the shelves. Blenheim walked past her and couldn’t help but bring a massive hand down onto her head to ruffle her unruly purple hair a little, trying not to think too much about how she immediately jolted into a defensive pose. An indignant squawk left her mouth when she registered what was happening and immediately tried to bat away the offending limb, puffing up like a cat and spluttering angrily at the commander. He could only chuckle a little at her reaction, clearly aware that she was just embarrassed, but relented anyway and made his way out of the workshop.

“Dinner time, brat,” he said, before throwing a thumbs up over his shoulder. “Good work today.”

When he climbed the stairs, he missed the stunned look Quartz sent after him.

 

* * *

 

Additionally to her rules, which she violated each and every one in just one week, Quartz followed a few simple principles that helped her with her… _lifestyle_. They were pretty flexible, so they all worked great in almost any environment she was in, they ended up being a mantra for her. A vital mantra.

She grimly watched the dark waves over the railing, staying behind on an empty deck while almost everyone had gone to the galley for dinner. Her typical evening, a routine she had developed as soon as she hit deck and had technically been kidnapped into a crew of pirates. Quartz had willed herself to calm down on the very first night here, and instead of sleeping, she had opted to plan instead.

( _Yeah right, as if she could sleep on a ship full of strangers. Surrounded by potential enemies. No way she will let her guard down._ )

Don’t be heard, don’t be seen, keep your head down and do your part, blend in, be a shadow and vanish in the evening, become faceless until it’s time to leave – quietly.

It really wan’t living, Quartz knew that, but it was _surviving_ and right now, that was good enough. She’ll take what she can get, milk the situation to her advantage dry and bolt when her luck finally ran out. Find a new source, take advantage of new source, rinse and repeat. She had the whole ordeal down to every move, every word and every gesture, sticking to her rules and principles, simply surviving. And that was good enough.

With a rather tired huff, she planted her chin onto her folded arms on the railing, wondering for the umpteenth time what she had gotten herself into this time. Apparently being kidnapped by the Strongest Man in the World and unwillingly placed into his crew of way too carefree nimrods as his new ‘ _daughter_ ’ – Quartz wanted to barf at the thought.

All this talk of family and brothers and sisters…she’s surprised she hasn’t thrown herself over board yet and let herself drown instead of listening to such unhinged bullshit. Whatever kind of la-la-land sugar goodness fantasy Whitebeard was dreaming up, Quartz wanted no part in that.

( _She doesn’t need anyone._ )

Screw his fantasy.

Screw Whitebeard and his damn crew.

Hell, screw everyone on this ship.

( _She doesn’t need_ ** _anyone_** _._ )

“I don’t need anyone…” she murmured to herself under her breath and forced herself not to immediately perk up whens he heard someone approaching her from behind. Dammit, it had been a while since she went full-on out; she really, _really_ wanted to stretch.

 

In a relaxed manner, Ace leaned back against the railing next to Quartz, elbows propped up and letting go of a giant yawn that had his jaw cracking slightly. He threw his head back a little, staring up into the darkening night sky, his hat now dangling around his neck and contemplated the silence between the two of them.

“So,” he then broke the ice and Quartz inwardly cursed. “You gonna head off for dinner or are you gonna hide in the shrouds again?”

She couldn’t help but scoff, “There’s no way I’m setting foot in there.”

Ace turned his head to stare at her, confused.

“Why? All the food’s in the galley, all you gotta do is line up and get your grub,” he said, before heaving himself up and adding; “It’s literally an All You Can Eat, Thatch doesn’t like wasted food.”

Quartz grumbled something incoherently into her arms and then glared at the 2nd commander.

“Then why are you here, Fire Finger?”

“I accidentally fell asleep in the armoury,” Ace shrugged and Quartz noted silently that the guy indeed smelled slightly of gunpowder. “And it’s Fire _Fist_ , you brat.”

“Sure,” she muttered and turned back towards the waves, clearly indicating that the conversation has ended for her, but the commander wasn’t having it. He rolled his eyes before he grinned mischievously.

The next minute, Quartz felt a hand grasping the back of her collar and not a second later, Ace dragged the kid nearly kicking and screaming across deck towards the galley. He winced at some of the curses the kid flung at him, her hands feeling like little rat claws batting at his hand but soon enough, they were standing in front of the galley – Ace finally let go, only for Quartz to be trapped into a partial headlock as the commander threw an arm around her shoulders. He made an overly grand gesture towards the galley.

“And this is the Food Palace!” he exclaimed, seemingly pleased with himself. The brat next to him only huffed.

“You’re being overdramatic,” she told him bluntly.

“And you’re being unnecessarily grumpy, shortstack,” he shot back. Her reaction was immediate; smacking his arm away, she took a wide stance, shoulders hunched over with her hands posing as little claws as she hissed.

“ _I am not short!_ ”

“You are literally two heads shorter than me,” Ace laughed, “and I’m like the shortest of all commanders, so believe me; you are _tiny_.” he teased her further, crossing his arms with a slight smirk as he leaned down a little to level his face with hers as if to demonstrate their drastic height difference. She screeched angrily and this time, she actually whipped her leg out to dispose him of his kneecaps – luckily he jumped out of the way just in time with a dramatic yelp

 

* * *

 

Thatch almost couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw a grinning Ace in line with a fidgety Quartz close to him. The kid looked decisively _uncomfortable_ , carrying a face as if she just stepped into a puddle of vomit – trust him, after seeing those faces after every drunken party on this ship and even after firsthand experience, he was well-versed with the expression. He grinned as the pair approached the buffet, uncrossing his arms to put his hands on his hips.

“Ace!” he greeted, studying the two, “You’re late, buddy, another spontaneous nap caught you?” Thatch guessed, chuckling when the freckled youth scratched the back of his neck sheepishly in return. The cook’s grin widened just a bit when he saw Ace’s other hand curled around Quartz collar – of course, there was no way the brat would willingly stay this close to the commander. Upon the youngest disgruntled expression, Thatch fetched two plates from nearby stack, handing them to the pair.

“C’mon, you lot must be hungry!” he exclaimed and gestured towards the rows of food, the amount steadily declining with the onslaught of crew members helping themselves to seconds and thirds. “Take what you can eat, I’ll join you guys in a second.”

The cook retreated into the kitchen as Ace eagerly dragged the girl over to the stacks of food and started to generously pile up his plate with meat, losing his grip on Quartz’ collar – but instead of running like she planned to, Quartz stood frozen in place, staring down the brightly lit buffet.

“That’s…” she began, catching Ace’s attention as he turned towards her with a leg of ham in his mouth. “That’s…a lot of food…” Quartz trailed off, speechless by the large display of steaming food in front of her.

“Well, duh,” Ace managed to say around the ham, “we’re a large crew, so we gotta have a lot of food to feed everyone on this ship.” he explained, emptying a ladle full of green peas onto his plate. His eyes landed back on the kid next to him and he curiously watched how her hands gripped her plate a little tighter to her chest. Her face seemed unreadable, but to him, she vaguely looked amazed, confused and slightly afraid all at the same time, it spooked him a little; people usually cheered at the sight of such big amount of food, it made him wonder what Quartz must be seeing right now instead.

Slowly, Quartz extended a hand towards some roast chicken, halting a little before tugging off a drumstick. Just as hesitantly, she piled on a few potatoes and a small bread roll. A merger meal compared to the mountain of food towering over her in Ace’s plate. The commander examined her plate sceptically.

“Are you sure that’s enough?” he asked carefully, ham bone sticking out at the corner of his mouth. “It looks…small.”

“It’s enough,” Quartz insisted, turning her back to the buffet, clearly avoiding the sight of all the food. Ace shrugged and proceeded to tug her along again, pointedly ignoring the two peaches Quartz sneakily stashed into her jacket when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. He steered the both of them towards a table with enough free seats – Quartz passed Blenheim, who sat with the one fishman commander Namur and another commander named Fossa, if she remembered correctly. The large man tilted his cup in her direction in greeting, the gesture with which she responded to with a barely noticeable nod as Ace led her to a table occupied by–

“Oh _hell_ no,”

Quartz stopped walking as soon as she saw Marco, Izo, Haruta and Jozu sitting at the table Ace had intended to join; she made a move to make a sharp u-turn but a hand around the back of her collar –she doesn’t like the fact that she seemed to be getting used to it– dragged her back immediately.

“What’s wrong, kid?” Ace asked, slightly bewildered at her sudden change in behaviour. “I thought you liked Marco.”

Quartz felt her hackles rise again. “I _tolerate_ him.”

“That’s not really a nice way to make friends, ya’ know,”

“I don’t need friends,” her mouth immediately informed him without thought. Now _that_ made Ace frown, while Quartz buried her chin into her collar, suddenly feeling unsure about her outburst. But before anyone could say anything, Thatch appeared behind them with his own plate of food, clapping a friendly hand onto Ace’s back as he leaned in between them.

“What are you standing around for, brats? You’re food’s getting cold like that! Hey Marco!” the cook called out and Quartz wanted to _bolt_. The 1st commander looked up when his name was called and waved them over, the rest of the group shuffling around on the benches to make some more space. Maybe Quartz could just smash her plate onto the floor to create a diversion and hightail the hell out of here, but then again…She stared down at the lone drumstick in her plate.

Maybe she could stuff the chicken into her mouth beforehand and _then_ run.

Her plans were thwarted when Thatch brought them to the table, chattering loudly with Haruta and promptly pushing Quartz into the space between Izo and Ace, right after the logia user sat down. The crossdresser smiled down at Quartz, who started to make a good impression of a turtle, tucking her head so far in that the collar brushed the tip of her nose. Honestly, it was kinda adorable, but Izo knew better than to voice it out loud, especially with someone as skittish as the new brat.

Ace immediately dug into his food and the previous conversation returned, now with Thatch contributing as everyone continued on with dinner – only Quartz stayed as silent as ever, fork in hand as her dark eyes darted around, clearly suspicious. She stabbed a potato and slowly brought it up to her mouth, eating it cautiously only to stop mid-chew when she noticed Marco watching her as he ate what looked like a sausage wrapped in puff pastry.

They stared silently at each other for a few seconds; Quartz bit her bottom lip to prevent it from jutting out into a pout, while Marco sent her a small grin.

“Good?” he asked over the conversation of the others, looking a little too smug for the kid’s liking. She gripped her fork tighter, glowering at the 1st commander before she petulantly grabbed her chicken and took a demonstrative bite out of it, munching almost aggressively.

Marco didn’t seem to mind, instead he grinned a bit more and turned back to his own plate, while Quartz started to gnaw on bone. She shovelled some more potatoes in her mouth, her stomach singing at the prospect of finally receiving a proper meal.

( _It was one of the best meals she ever received_.)


	4. in which accidents open paths to revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope, Marco finds, is a rather fragile thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trigger Warning]  
> \- Events of drowning  
> \- Panic Attacks
> 
> Salutations!  
> First off, to the warnings; I put them there as precaution, they can be a pretty sensitive themes, so if they are too much for you, do skip this chapter please, no need to put you in harms way, do take care!  
> And I'd also like to thank you for your comments and kudos and overall support, I'm happy that people enjoy this story! I hope to keep you entertained, haha!
> 
> Also, to note from the last chapter; how did I think having Ace fall asleep in the armoury would be a good idea, ESPECIALLY when they have gun powder in there ajksbdjkbfd-- I think this should be addressed during the story, I'm pretty sure Marco would have at least 3 conniptions if he finds out.
> 
> Again, thank you for reading, enjoy the new chapter (this time with a bit of drama) and take care!  
> – Crow

* * *

 

After the whole dinner ordeal, Ace started to deliberately seek out Quartz every time dinner was announced, dragging her by her collar as she snarled and clawed all the way to the galley, loudly protesting each time. It was a highly amusing picture to Marco whenever Ace succeeded, devouring his dinner as Quartz silently seethed next to him, aggressively munching her food as a clear sign that she wasn’t enjoying this whole ‘family dinner’ at all. Then, Izo started contributing much to the kid’s dismay, by commenting on her plate each time.

“Chicken and potato again? This is unacceptable, you need to eat your greens.”

The same evening Quartz had to eat a bowl of steamed carrots under Izo’s watchful eye. And since then, without fail, if the brat didn’t eat a balanced dinner each night, the commander made it his responsibility to place another full plate in front of her. The gesture was usually met with Quartz’ displeasure but she ate the meal anyway. It took one memorable evening for her to finally get her own balanced meal, when she had taken one look at the plate Izo had put down for her before she loudly rejected the food – it was also that evening where they found out that the brat seemed to harbour an unadulterated _hatred_ for asparagus.

Thatch, an avid lover of the vegetable, had worn the face of utter betrayal similar to that one time where he found out that Ace and Haruta had pranked Marco without telling him. What followed was almost an all out war after the cook called the kid an uncultured picky-eater, to which she replied that no cook could ever make asparagus taste good, not even him, and Marco was forced to separate them after Thatch lunged over the table to tug at Quartz’ cheek as she clawed at his hair, a fork suddenly appearing to be a very dangerous idea to be in her hands.

Regardless, one week later, whenever dinner was called, Blenheim would walk into the galley followed by an ever grumpy Quartz. Apparently the shipwright had taken a liking to the runt and gave Marco the future option of making her an apprentice, seeing as how Quartz seemed to already possess some knowledge about tools and construction. That, and the fact that the commander had once caught her woodcarving on one of her breaks. Marco was already pretty much inclined on placing the brat into the shipwright apprenticeship, but he’d run the idea through Pops first of course. A task he mentally reminded himself of for later; right now, he was just enjoying his dinner but not without throwing a few watchful glances towards the two youngest members, who bickered over the steak Ace had stolen from Quartz’ plate, the meat in question now caught in a tug-of-war between the two.

In the end, Jozu had to hold on onto the girl’s jacket to prevent her from jumping the freckled commander after he had flung the steak into the air and caught it with his mouth, which was rather impressive, even if Quartz had screeched in absolute fury.

Three weeks have gone by since Quartz’ arrival; she was still skittish as ever, suspicious most of the time and had way too much temper in such a tiny body, but conversations with her lasted longer, she ate properly and now joined dinner without being prompted. Marco liked to think that things were looking up and improving, even if everyone ignored the way Quartz still snuck one or two peaches into her jacket during dinner.

They had all the time in the world after all.

 

* * *

 

It was a sunny day with a warm breeze, a particular nice change from the stormy looking clouds they had a few days ago – it looked like they were nearing the Grand Line soon, the weather was always a bit tricky there. Quartz squinted a little at the sunlight as she gazed up into the sky to spy for any clouds. She sat on the railing near the belaying pins and even closer to the shrouds, where she could safely lean onto the thick ropes without falling, half-coiled rigging rope in her lap.

“Quartz, yoi,”

At her name, she brought her head back down, watching Marco as he approached her with a thick rigging rope curled around his shoulder. His eyes fell onto the rope in her lap.

“You done yet?” he asked, nodding his chin towards the pins.

“Almost,” she replied, her hands back on the rope to resume her work, when Marco stopped her by tossing the coiled rope from his shoulder onto the deck in front of her.

“Don’t bother with last one,” he sighed as his eyes followed the last rope up, “we wanna replace that one since it’s such a nice day.”

Quartz’ nose scrunched up briefly – a small gesture with which the kid usually displayed her confusion, Marco had guessed – and stared at the rope lying on the wooden planks.

“Doesn’t that usually take a lot of work?”

The commander smiled a little, “Not this one, it’s more or less one of the shorter ones that can be done within a few hours without dismantling most of the mast. Fossa thought it’d be better to replace it now since it’s already so worn; it’ll be too much of a hassle to do it when it snaps in a bad moment.”

The kid just nodded along before she deftly bound the rope in her hands around a pin, now nicely coiled. She grabbed the last rope, looking almost expectantly up at Marco.

“Uncoil it from the pin completely, don’t worry too much about it, it won’t fly away or anything but hold on to it,” he started instructing her and Quartz immediately went to work, crouching over the pin while he untied the loop around the wheel of rope, which kept it from uncoiling. At the sound of passing footsteps, he looked up.

“Ace, yoi,” Marco called, waving the younger commander over with a hand, “you free right now?”

With an easygoing grin Ace knocked back his hat. “Sure! Whaddaya need?”

Marco tossed him the end of the rope and pointed above him, “We’re going to replace a rope, get climbing and make sure to hold on properly this time.”

The freckled teen chuckled sheepishly and hopped onto the railing, immediately climbing the shrouds but not without placing a playful rap upon Quartz’ head.

“Hey Circle Eyes,” he greeted, snatching his hand back before her little rat claws could get him. She growled, now standing on the railing with a hand secured on the shrouds.

“Get fucked, Droopy Eyes,”

Marco immediately admonished her for her language, making her cringe slightly at his _“Watch your language”_ , while Ace looked vaguely offended, pausing mid-climb to yell at her.

“My eyes aren’t droopy!”

“Yes they are, they look about ready to drop down your face!”

The 1st commander sighed as the pair overhead bickered; on one hand Marco was happy that Quartz felt comfortable enough to talk openly, but on the other hand, her snark hadn’t let up at all and with Ace’s rather young disposition both often got tangled up in childish squabbles with each other. Most of the times they were pretty amusing, but other times their age really started to show too, the squabbles more often than not ending in a near fistfight.

Quartz stuck her tongue out after Ace when the commander, albeit grumbling petulantly, went back to climbing. The girl noticeably avoided Marco’s almost exasperated look when she gave him the old rigging rope, now fully separated from its pin. Meanwhile Ace reached the top of the shrouds and began locating the missing rope they were replacing, when he unknowingly took a wrong step, his foot falling through one of the gaps in the shrouds.

“ _Oh shit_ —!”

He nearly bit his tongue with his yelp as he slipped, arms thrown out to catch himself on the wooden beam holding the shrouds. The wind was knocked out of him when his chest collided with the wood and he wheezed as the force of the blow sent a tremor down the ropes.

Hearing the distinctive twang of ropes, Marco glanced up, worried about his youngest brother, who he spotted sputtering while draped over a beam and Quartz, who noticed Marco’s movement, looked up too.

“What did he do now?” she muttered, squinting to see past the sunlight – then, a tremor raced through the rope loosely enclosed in her hand, the sudden jerk wrenching a surprised gasp from the kid, who reflexively let go and inadvertently took a cautious step back only for her foot to meet air. The next thing Quartz knew, was that she was falling backwards away from the railing she previously stood on, her eyes as big and confused as Marco’s, who hadn’t anticipated the sudden change when he saw the kid tumble. Baffled but alarmed he dropped the rope in his hands and made a move to grab her, when the whole situation finally caught up to Quartz. Instant dread filled her and she sought out Marco’s eyes one more time before she vanished beyond the railing – her last stare sent a spike of panic through the elder.

She looked absolutely _terrified_.

A short scream followed by a loud splash was heard when Quart plunged into the waters below, immediately attracting the attention of the other crew members and Ace snapped his gaze towards the spot the kid had just previously occupied.

“Did she just?” he asked incredulously, while Marco nearly collided with the railing as he leaned over to search the waves. Ice filled the commander as a thought hit him with the force similar to a single strike of Oyaji’s bisento.

 

 _Quartz can’t swim_.

 

“ _Namur!_ ” Marco immediately yelled and he barely even finished the command as the fishman already dived over the side of the ship, gracefully submerging beneath the waves. A concerned Haruta jumped up the railing next to Marco, leaning over by holding onto the shrouds with a steady grip and Ace turned around, hooking his elbows under the ropes to hold him safely in place as he tried to locate Namur in the water. More and more crew members gathered at the rail and the commotion finally brought the captain out of his chambers, whose door slammed open as Whitebeard stepped outside.

“What is going on?” he bellowed, a mix between concern and confusion, when he felt a dainty hand on his leg. He glanced down to see Izo holding his paper fan to his chest.

“Quartz fell overboard, Namur just dived in to fetch her,” he informed his father, looking worried, when Ace shouted overhead.

“There!” he pointed into the waves, “They’re over there!”

Haruta whipped around to the crew, “Get the ladder and get them out of there now!”

 

Namur bobbed up and down in the water, making sure that Quartz’s head remained above the waves as he swam towards the ladder his crew had flung out for him. While he definitely had no problem carrying the kid, she did feel like a completely unmoving deadweight. In fact, the kid hadn’t moved at all even as he had dived into the water to retrieve her; Quartz had simply floated underwater, limbs rigid as she sank deeper and deeper into the darkness. There had been no flailing or desperate attempt to reach the surface and for a heart stopping moment Namur had thought she was dead until a lone air bubble escaped her mouth, a clear attempt on regaining any form of oxygen. The fishman had quickly grabbed her and retreated to the surface.

Namur gripped the ladder tightly when he reached it, hiking his near catatonic passenger further up his back.

“We’re good!” he called up and watched how Jozu and Kingdew pulled the ladder up. Jozu offered a hand as soon as Namur was in reach and he thankfully took it, hopping on deck where nurses immediately crowded him.

 _Thank god_ , he thought as he carefully cradled Quartz into his arms, “Here, I’m not sure if she’s breathing.” Tenderly, he laid her down onto the wood and one nurse, June, immediately knelt down to put her fingers against the kid’s neck.

“Pulse is there,” she declared loudly, while her twin July laid her ear against Quartz’ chest. A tense silence followed as she scrunched her eyebrows together in concentration. Namur looked up searchingly until he spotted Marco wrestling himself through the growing circle around them, Ace and Haruta following him just in time to see July come back up again.

“She’s breathing, albeit barely– _ah_!” As if on cue, Quartz’ eyes snapped open, wide with panic as she lurched up and to the side, heaving up a torrent of water from her mouth, gagging at the overwhelming taste of salt. The fishman started to hover over her slightly, unease etched into his face as the kid continued to cough that shook her whole body.

“Easy there, kiddo…” he murmured. He always hated seeing the aftermath of a near-drowning experience on his brothers and sisters, who just weren’t made for the water like he was. It will always be a terribly bitter pill to swallow at the reality that his human family could easily lose their lives to the very thing Namur called his home.

June und July gently tried to rub soothing circles into Quartz’ back, when the kid violently lashed out, slapping their hands away with a wild look in her eyes.

“ _Don’t touch me_!” she hissed, trying to get onto her feet but failing, her limbs trembling way too much to hold her weight. The nurses held up their hands almost in surrender.

“It’s alright, Quartz,” July started calmly, “you’re safe now, we just want to make sure–“ she tried again to get closer but the kid scooted further away, breathing heavily.

“I said _get away from me_!” Quartz shrieked and Namur could see Marco moving closer to her. A bad, bad feeling rose in the fishman's chest.

“Quartz, yoi, you need to calm down, they’re just trying to help,” the 1st commander nearly implored, quietly noting the rising panic in the kid’s eyes, “I promise you, they don’t mean any harm, you can _trust_ them–“

“ _Shut up_!” she screamed and Namur heard the underlying hysterics in her strained voice. “Shut up, shut up, shut _UP_! I don’t need _ANYONE_! _Leave me alone_!”

“Quartz–“

“Marco, enough!” Namur intervened, hand gripping his brother’s shoulder as he leaned in to talk in a hushed voice. “Can’t you see she’s panicking? The kid nearly drowned, give her some space, she’s completely overwhelmed.”

Unfortunately, not everyone got the message as people in the crowd started to talk.

 

“You okay, kid?”

 

“You should really see the nurses, just in case.”

 

“You’ll be find, kid.”

 

Voices from all around blurred into distorted static to Quartz. It was both deafening and muffled at the same time and the people around her turned into formless shapes looming over her with eyes – eyes that showed pity, eyes of concern, piercing eyes, searching eyes – they were all _looking_ at her. Looming figures bending down to stare at her–

 

( _“What’cha got there, shorty? Don’t you wanna share, hehe…”_ )

 

( _“You damned brat! This’ll teach you not to steal!”_ )

 

( _“She’s not one of us_ ** _._** _”_ )

 

– there were too many eyes staring at her and Quartz wanted to hide away. Far, far away. A dangerous mix of red hot rage, chilling fear and nerve-wracking anxiety exploded within her as she curled up, hiding her face in her arms and trying not to throw up again as she heaved at all the nerves.

“ _STOP LOOKING AT ME!_ ” she screeched, loud and hysterical and desperate and something in her just _snapped_.

 

It was safe to say that Ace was beyond worried and confused when he saw Quartz curl up and scream. Honestly, he was not prepared at all for the kid’s meltdown, but he was even _less_ prepared for what happened next when suddenly a 160 pound full-grown snow tiger sat in the exact same spot Quartz just curled up on.

Half of the crew shrieked, eyes bulging as they stared at the tiger, curled up in itself with it’s ears pinned back, growling lowly as it’s wild eyes flitted around nervously. Then, it clicked.

“…Quartz?” Ace called, gingerly stepping around Marco and Namur, both strangely looking not so surprised at all. The tiger pinned him with a piercing look, before a sound close to whimpering escaped it’s mouth, burying it’s face between massive paws.

“She’s… a devil fruit user?” Thatch questioned out loud behind Ace, when suddenly big reverberating footsteps divided the crowd.

Tall and imposing as ever, Whitebeard stepped up next to his youngest son with a blanket in his hand. Ace watched how Pops stared the tiger– _Quartz_ down, who stared right back through her paws; watching, waiting. Then, with a small flick of his wrist, Whitebeard threw the blanket over her form, the burgundy fabric swallowing her whole until only a lump in the middle remained. The captain turned to the crowd, face expectant.

“Well?” he huffed, “There is nothing to see here, get back to work, you brats!”

At his order, the crowd dispersed quickly, not one to question their captain. Said captain turned a little to look over his shoulder.

“You too,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice as Marco and Ace stared up at him; Marco looking a little put-off and Ace sheepish. “She’ll be fine, if you’re so worried, having some space would do her good for now.” Whitebeard reassured them and walked back towards the bundle on the floor. Marco made a move to follow, albeit hesitantly, but Thatch then appeared out of nowhere, dragging both him and Ace away, loudly announcing that they still had a rigging rope to replace.

 

Edward Newgate slowly approached the blanket, crouching down before it to lift a small portion to look beneath. In the darkness provided by the heavy blanket, two round human eyes stared back at him through a curtain of still wet purple hair.

“They saw,” Quartz murmured quietly, her throat scratchy, “they all saw…”

Whitebeard hummed, “They indeed did. What will you do now?”

There was a suspicious sniff, but the man decided not to comment on it. His youngest obviously seemed to be still distraught about these rapidly changing events.

“I want…I want to hide,” the girl confessed, suddenly feeling entirely too small and vulnerable, but her limbs still trembled, everything _hurt_ and she was _tired_. “Just for now. Just for a bit.”

The man nodded thoughtfully, gently picking her up entirely together with the blanket still wrapped around her. It made her feel like a swaddled child, but she couldn’t find the energy to throw a hissy fit about it. She just wanted to sleep and hope the haunting memory of the darkness of the ocean pressing in from all around her won’t follow.

“I can think of a quiet place where you will receive the necessary care you need, so rest easy, my child, everything will be alright.” Whitebeard murmured softly, carrying her off to the infirmary, where the nurses were already waiting for them.

He noted with a small delight, that this time Quartz didn’t reject the title at all.

 


	5. in which unease blooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People start to get restless, but not as restless as Quartz herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations!
> 
> AHHHH I'M SORRY I'M LATE??!?!  
> I was honestly in a bit of a slump after the last chapter, which ended up being rather dramatic, OH MAN. But I finally got myself together for this chapter. A bit of a deeper insight on the characters, so to say.  
> As usual; THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR KUDOS! I hope you enjoy this chapter – let me know in the comments! Thank you for reading, have a great day and take care!  
> – Crow

* * *

 

Three days.

 

Three days since Quartz’ meltdown and the kid still hasn’t emerged from the infirmary. At this point Haruta was sure that Blenheim was ready to all but smash through the door to the sick bay to check up on his future apprentice. Unfortunately ( _but fortunately for the kid_ ) no-one but the nurses and Pops were allowed to see the runt, Haruta guessed it was to keep the kid from being overwhelmed by a wave of curious and worried crew members, who had previously been in regular contact with her prior to the incident. Pretty ironic considering Quartz put up a bratty behaviour to have everyone steer clear from her – instead she now had a handful of people asking when the little spitfire would return.

The commander sighed as they watched how Ace stood in front of the infirmary doors, simply staring at it as if he tried to burn a hole into the wood with his eyes alone, completely unaware of the fact that eyes were glued to his back. Haruta heard him heave a small sigh as he straightened up and lifted a fist to knock on the doors, but instead proceeded to nearly jump out of his skin when the fencer spoke up behind him.

“You know the orders, little brother,” Haruta drawled, one eyebrow arched as Ace whirled around to take an immediate fighting stance. “No visitors besides the nurses or Pops.”

The younger dropped his stance when he finally took note that it was only one of his siblings. His shoulders slumped and his bottom lip threatened to almost shove forward into a pout.

“She’s been in there for three days, Haru,” he half-whined, “shouldn’t she be okay now? I mean, I still gotta apologise to her too…” Suddenly looking vaguely uncomfortable, Ace shifted his eyes to the side to avoid looking at Haruta’s stunned face directly.

“Apologise?” they parroted confused, “Apologise for what exactly?” With hands on their hips, they expectantly stare at their younger brother, who fidgeted slightly on the spot.

“Well- I-“ Ace stuttered before crossing his arms defensively, “I- it was my fault that she fell, if I hadn’t–“

He was immediately interrupted by Haruta holding up a finger. “Nuh-uh,” they said, wagging the finger in front of his face.

“But–“

“No.”

“I mean–“

“Shush.”

This time the finger was pointing almost aggressively at him, Haruta’s normally mischievous pixie face morphed into a stern expression, daring Ace to say more. He kept his mouth shut, mildly irritated as he gulped.

“Ace,” Haruta then started, bringing their hand down to pat his head softly, “accidents happen. There _was_ and _is_ absolutely no-one to blame for what happened, okay? It was a simple accident with unforeseen consequences and Quartz decided to deal with them herself. We respect her decision; besides, it’s not like she’s completely alone, so don’t worry too much, little brother. And especially don’t blame yourself, understand?”

The freckled commander honestly felt a little childish with how the elder was petting him, but nonetheless he nodded, the guilty knot in his chest steadily loosening at the reassuring words. Haruta withdrew their hand, smiling brightly without the usual hint of their daily impish grin, but there was still a mischievous spark in their blue eyes.

“And if you don’t believe me,” they continued brightly, “you can always have a talk with dear Paya.”

At that, Ace immediately paled.

“O-Oh no, I think I’ll be fine, thank you,” the teen nervously laughed, back-pedalling from the conversation when the door behind him opened. Curiously, he looked over his shoulder to see who it was but as soon as he did, Ace nearly yelped.

“ _Speaking of the devil…_ ” Haruta quietly mumbled under their breath, half-amused at the situation unfolding as the head nurse of the ship stepped out of the room, giving them both a vaguely confused smile.

“Well, hello there, Haru-chan, Ace-chan,” the tall woman greeted, her permanently sleepy-looking fawn eyes sparkling with mirth. Despite her rather intimidating height of solid 6’5ft, her half-lidded eyes, button nose and pleasantly curved mouth, all framed by her long, soft orange hair looking like clouds at dusk, made her look much more less threatening – but Ace was not fooled by her lovely appearance. He made that mistake a long time ago and he definitely won’t repeat it again.

“May I ask why you two are loitering in front of my office?” Paya asked in a voice like sugar and Ace wanted to run. This woman was _scary_.

“Well– I– Uh–“ Both commander and nurse watched how the youngest between them stumbled clumsily over his words, not sure where he should start without having to fear of being poked with a needle.

“He wanted to see Quartz,” Haruta then bluntly said and Ace nearly had a heart attack. Sold out, ice cold, by one of his closest brethren, just like that. He gave his older sibling a look of utmost betrayal.

“Do I even mean anything to you?” he whispered at the older commander, who rolled their eyes.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Haruta turned back to Paya, “how is she doing by the way? She’s been in there for three days, some people are actually getting a bit antsy.”  
The nurse chuckled, “My, how sweet you two are. But I’m a bit surprised too; Quartz-chan left early this morning, surely you must’ve seen her on deck somewhere.”

Judging by the stunned looks on the commanders faces, Paya guessed they had, in fact, not seen the youngest at all. She brought up a hand to her cheek.

“Oh dear, I suppose not…”

“She’s been released and she doesn’t even bother to say hi?!” Ace groused loudly before suddenly dashing down the hallway and skidding around the corner out of sight. After a small moment of wordless silence, the same footsteps came rushing back as Ace came to a stumbling halt at the end of the hallway, facing Haruta and Paya. With a sober expression, the young commander took a deep bow.

“Thank you for your hard work,” he said seriously before spinning on his heel and racing back to where he just came from. Haruta let go of what sounded like an exhausted sigh.

“Kids these days…”

Paya only chuckled.

 

* * *

 

Quartz was _not_ in the mood.

When she finally decided to leave the safe sanctuary of the infirmary, she had planned to find Marco to inform him that she’ll be leaving as soon as they docked at the next island. After the whole tiger debacle, there is no way she’s going to stay on this ship. Quartz wanted to go.

She _had_ to go.

So here she was, following the thin trail of Marco’s scent through the deeper parts of the ship. Despite the current length of her stay, Quartz has yet to actually fully explore the Moby Dick; she stuck to deck most of the time and the only time she went under, it was for her work with Blenheim and Fossa, nothing else. In an afterthought, that fact came back to bite her in the ass – she had no clue where the hell she was. Crew members walked around her, some regarding her with curious looks and other uttering a few grunts of “ _Move it, twerp_ ” as they heaved past her with barrels on their shoulders. Almost clumsily, she tried to shift out of the way of the flow and stumbled into someones massive back with a small “ _oof_ ”. There was another grunt, this time a lot more deeper and gruff and Quartz looked up to meet beady little eyes of a heavyset man with a rather unruly beard and a matching moustache. Behind him, there were a few more men, all taller und burlier than her small frame, easily towering over the kid. The man in front of Quartz blinked a few times before grinning – but it wasn’t a bright grin like Ace always wore or the amused and sly grin from Marco. She tried not to fidget.

“Well, well, well!” the man started loudly as his pals sniggered, “Looks like the kitten has finally decided to show it’s little face again!”  
He laughed, sounding like a wheezing coffee pot, a hand reaching out to pat Quartz’s head. Out of pure reflex and general apprehension, she immediately slapped the offending appendage away from her with a disgruntled expression.

“Don’t touch me,” she growled, defensive, “also, don’t call me that, jerkface.”

The hand was back, faster than she had anticipated, but instead of patting her head, the fingers pinched her cheek and tugged – _hard_. A sound of pain escaped her mouth as Quartz clawed at the hand, while the man tugged her closer as he leaned down. His rum-tainted breath fanned against her face when he spoke.

“Too bad the water didn’t beat the attitude outta ya’, little punk,” he sneered, roughly shoving her onto the floor in the semi circle his friends had formed, effectively shielding her from prying eyes. They all jeered, staring her down when she picked herself back up again, her right cheek cherry red and stinging unpleasantly. Her eyes darted around – there were five of them, she could probably take ‘em, but she always hated indoor combat, it made her feel too caged in.

Suddenly, there was a foot in her back, shoving her into the floorboards. Quartz wheezed when the weight knocked the wind out of her.

“Get…off…me!” she coughed out, glaring heatedly through her bangs at the bearded man above her. The man cackled cruelly, leaning forward to settle his elbow onto his knee, putting even more weight onto his foot, which was awarded with a pained groan from the kid.

“Watch carefully, fellas,” the man announced, “this is supposed to be our newest addition to the crew; it was already bad enough we took that Spade Boy in, not only that, the fucker also took the title of a commander!”

_Ace_ , Quartz thought, gritting her teeth at the increasing pressure on her back. Her nails dug into the wood beneath her – maybe she didn’t know Ace that well, but she was damn sure she had an idea on why he was a better commander.

“And now,” the man continued as his sneering friends closed in, “we are supposed to take this _runt_ in, a simple child, who shows no ounce of respect or obedience, parading around like she owns this place with her bratty attitude.”

He increased the pressure again and a pitiful wheeze forced its way over Quartz’ lips. At this rate this bastard will actually crush her ribcage. She pressed up against his foot, using her hands to hold her weight in order to create some space between her chest and the floor – it definitely won’t hold for long but it was good enough for a few deep breaths. Her arms trembled at the strenuous effort; no matter how many fights she had braved, this guy was double her size with a biceps almost as big as her head, its only through pure willpower what kept her from fully collapsing under the man’s force. Sweat beaded and slowly dripped down the length of her nose.

There was more strength within her, she could easily tap into it and then let’s see who’s laughing in the end– Quartz squeezed her eyes shut as if to block out the thoughts. No more revelations, she already disclosed way too much, _trusted too much_. She was a fool to think that she’d be safe here.

“You know what I’m thinking, fellas,” the bearded man said, grinning darkly with his beady eyes zeroing in on the kid. “I think it’s time to teach this brat a lesson, she seems to have forgotten that right now, she’s at the bottom of the food chain – we ain’t so soft like the commanders, who let your  snotty behaviour slide, maybe some actual punishment will finally teach you some proper _respect_ , runt.”

It hurt craning her neck enough to glare at the man, but when she did, her look was absolute poison and glinting with pure spite. She scrunched up her nose in disgust.

“You think you’re the first to think that?” Quartz panted before sneering, “Because you’re definitely not the last who wasn’t able to achieve what he wanted – _I don’t bow to anyone_.”

As if to prove her statement, she spat as close as she could at his shoe.

“Especially not to scumbags like _you_.”

The man growled, giving her a forceful nudge with his foot. Quartz felt like she was about to lose her breakfast the nurses had brought her this morning, too lost in the concentration of trying not to retch to notice how one of the men crouched down in front of her, thoughtful look on his face. Suddenly, there was a hand in her hair, pulling her head up to get a clearer look on her face as she winced at the rough pull. The man squinted at her.

“Ya’ know,” he mused out loud, “the brat actually looks kinda familiar if ya’ ask me. I swear I’ve seen her mug somewhere…”

_Oh no_.

And there was the very first spike of panic shooting through Quartz’ entire core like lightning. It was already bad enough that she had grown used to the crew around her, it was even worse that she had been exposed as a devil fruit user – there was no way that she’ll be watching the worst thing of all unfold right in front of her. She had to get out of this. _Now_.

“Getting twitchy, aren’t ya,” the man above her sneered as he leaned down, “ya’ got any more secrets to tell? We’d love to hear.”

“And _I’d_ love to hear what the _hell_ is going on,”

The lot of them froze instantly at the icy voice, the bearded guy gulping roughly when he felt the edge of a sword against the side of his neck, the cold, unrelenting steel stinging against his heated skin. The guy gripping Quartz’ hair immediately let go, backing away fearfully, together with the other three men.

“C-Commander Haruta!” one guy stammered as said commander motioned with their sword at the bearded man to step aside, which he complied to do so. As soon as the pressure disappeared, Quartz gasped noisily, greedily taking in the air before losing herself in a series of hacking coughs. They rattled her already bruised ribcage and she winced – everything hurt and she just got out of the med bay too. The nurses won’t be happy if they ever find out. She pushed herself up to her knees, rubbing her sternum, watching intently how Haruta used the tip of their saber to tilt the man’s chin up, having moved between him and Quartz. They scrutinised him carefully.

“You’re part of Atmos’ division, correct?”

The man nodded shakily, mindful of the blade still dangerously close to his neck.

“I hope you are well aware of the consequences following the act of deliberately harming a fellow crew member.” Haruta said cooly that even Quartz shivered slightly, “To grant and issue punishments are strictly reserved for either the commanders or the captain himself, have I made myself clear?”  
The man swallowed thickly, sweat beading at his temple as he once again nodded meekly.

“Yes, Commander Haruta,” he mumbled together with his friends. The fencer gave him a last icy glare, before sheathing their blade.

“Commander Atmos will hear about this, but for now; _back to work_.” As soon as they finished their command, the men scrambled away, leaving only Haruta and Quartz. Many things were resting on the kid’s tongue right now; a small part in her wanted to blurt out an embarrassed but grateful “ _Thank you_ ”, while the bigger part in her hissed out an angry “ _I didn’t need your help_ ”. Instead, the other, more childish part emerged.

“Could’ve at least let me kick that asshole in the face, ya’ know,” Quartz muttered, finally back on her feet, wincing slightly at the loud crack her spine made. Haruta furrowed their eyebrows.

“Weren’t you just listening about the deliberate harm of another crew member?”

“He started it…”

“ _Quartz,_ ”

The kid burrowed her chin back into her high collar, effectively hiding the oncoming pout threatening to show on her face. The commander sighed, but the corner of their lips twitched upwards anyway.

“Are you hurt?” they asked and Quartz only shrugged with one shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” she mumbled, avoiding mildly concerned blue eyes scanning her for any visible injuries. Haruta huffed.

“Let the nurses at least have a check, just in case,” they said, ruffling her purple hair a little. They didn't comment on how the kid stiffened for a second before relaxing slightly. “Trust me, kiddo, bruised ribs ain’t no fun, nearly cost Curiel a lung once, that stubborn ass.”

“I need to find the pineapple first,”

“Then why are you here? We have plenty in the kitchen–“

Quartz gave them a look.

“Oh, you mean Marco,” Haruta chuckled, “is it because of your devil fruit?”

The kid froze, face darkening a little and the commander made a mental note on not mentioning the particular incident ever again.

“No. Why would he have to do anything with that anyway,” Quartz grumbled, watching how the elder’s face lit up in surprise.

“You don’t know?” they asked and the kid just scrunched up her nose in confusion. “Marco is also a devil fruit user, a zoan type to be exact.”

Haruta gave her an impish grin as she stared at them with wide eyes.

“Just like you.”


	6. in which everything gets kinda worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things escalate and it gets ugly – emotions are a fickle thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations!
> 
> HEY I'M ALIVE I BRING A NEW CHAPTER IDK IF ITS GOOD BC I HIT A SLUMP BUT HEY HERE I AM PLS ENJOY!!  
> Also thank you all so much for your comments – they truly made my day, I am so, so happy to know that you all are enjoying this story. But just in case, if yall were hoping on some good vibes; im sorry, prepare to be disappointed go o d b y e–
> 
> T-THank you for reading, I wish you all a wonderful day and take care!
> 
> – Crow

* * *

 

 

Marco scrunched up his nose slightly at the overwhelming smell of gun powder, a telltale tickle rising in his nostrils. With a short rub of his knuckle, he willed the oncoming sneeze away as he read through the inventory list in his hands, never looking up from the paper but somehow expertly avoiding all his working crewmates bustling around him. Everything seemed in perfect order, though he felt like some of the swords could use a good sharpening session – he stored that info away for Jiru later. With a small relieved sigh, Marco exited the armoury, immediately sidestepping an oncoming lady carrying a barrel of gunpowder on her shoulder, who thanked him with a grin.

That’s when he nearly collided with an irritated looking Ace, who apparently just popped up out of nowhere, almost sending Marco internally straight up into cardiac arrest. Externally, Marco merely twitched in surprise.

“Ace, yoi,” he said, blinking, “don’t do that, man, one day someone might clock you out of reflex.”

Ace ignored his greeting entirely.

“Quartz,” he grumbled out instead, “have you seen her?”

Marco raised his eyebrows, “Has she been discharged?” he asked and had to lean back slightly when Ace invaded his personal space, eyes blazing as he gripped Marco’s shoulders, shaking him slightly.

“ _Since this morning_ , Marco!” the freckled commander exclaimed angrily, “She has been discharged early this _morning_ and it’s already well in the _afternoon_ and she didn’t even bother to say ‘ _Hi_ ’, what the hell!”

He stopped shaking the elder when he gripped Ace’s wrists, looking slightly disoriented.

“I don’t think it’s that tragic, yoi,” Marco said, despite feeling a small twinge of disappointment at the fact that Quartz hadn’t bothered to show her face, but he swallowed the bitter feeling down. “It’s rather good news, don’t you think?”

Ace scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, yeah, but she could’ve at least say ‘Hello’,”

The phoenix raised one eyebrow, a small sly smile appearing on his face.

“Worried?” he teased the younger, who promptly flushed, freckles standing out against the pink of his cheeks. Ace spluttered for a second, clearly embarrassed and Marco cackled internally – the younger was so easy to rile up.

“I– No! I mean– Yeah?” Ace fumbled with his words before huffing indignantly. “Whatever, Marco.”

The 1st commander smirked, ruffling the other’s hair, much to his growing embarrassment, when he heard his name being called out from behind.

“Marco!”

He turned around to see Haruta waving at him, their other hand resting atop of a familiar mop of purple hair. Behind him, Ace had peered moodily over his shoulder, but as soon as he caught sight of Quartz and her usual scowl, his previously irritated face brightened.

“Circle Eyes, you’re okay!” he greeted her cheerfully, apparently now over the fact that Quartz seemingly avoided them all morning. Said Circle Eyes, who had been quiet alongside Haruta, immediately puffed up like a cat.

“You’re too loud, Droopy Eyes!”

“My eyes aren’t droopy!”

“We are not having this argument again,” Marco interrupted them, already pinching the bridge of his nose. Unbelievable, the brat gets dismissed from the med bay and she already wanted to pick a fight. However, relief flooded through him to see the fire still burning in her, so he grinned at her.

“Good to see ya still kicking, yoi,” he greeted her, when she and Haruta stepped closer, “was kinda quiet on deck without you.”

Quartz just shot him a disgruntled look, crossing her arms over her chest before wincing at the movement. It was only quick flash of pain but Marco saw it anyway and his brows furrowed.

“Are you hurt?” he stepped closer, the movement causing Quartz to immediately take a step back, demonstratively turning to the side as she avoided his gaze, chin tucked under her high collar. Next to her, Haruta sighed.

“Found the kid in the middle of a curb stomp battle with some of Atmos’ brats,” they revealed, ignoring the dark glare Quartz sent them, “I’ll send her to the nurses right after, but I figured she wanted to see you first. Apparently she was searching for you, Marco.”

The 1st commander quirked both of his eyebrows at that, not before reminding himself to check up on Atmos about what Haruta just told him. He vaguely registered how Ace started to frown.

“Oh?” he the said, gaze falling back on to the youngest, “What’s up?”

Round eyes as dark as the night sky flitted back towards him. Quartz slightly raised her chin to escape the cover of her collar – she opened her mouth before closing it again. She looked conflicted for a second and she looked away again just as she grumbled something unintelligible under her breath. Marco barely caught it.

“Pardon, could you repeat that, please?” he asked, straining his ears as Ace and Haruta watched on, curious ( _Ace_ ) and nosy ( _Haruta_ ) as they were. Quartz harrumphed, appearing to be slightly embarrassed.

“…devil fruit…” Marco then heard her mumble and he raised his eyebrows, “I heard…you got one too.”

The man sent a quick questioning glance towards Haruta, who only shrugged before tilting their head towards Quartz with a telling expression on their face. Marco turned back to the girl, who started to repeat her impressive impression of a turtle.

“I do,” the 1st commander confirmed, watching how those dark eyes focussed back on him. “and I’m not the only one; plenty of people on board have devil fruit powers. Ace is one of em’,”

He pointed at the other with his thumb and Ace gave her a lazy grin, flicking up a finger which immediately caught fire. For a moment, she watched the flame dance, the small thing reflecting eerily in her eyes. Then, they flicked up to look at Ace.

“You’re a logia,” she said, more of a statement than a question. To the surprise of the others, the usual shadow over eyes, caused by her bandanna, darkened. “…lucky.”

She muttered the last part, barely a whisper but Ace was able to pick it up anyway and he frowned slightly again until Marco leaned forward.

“Oh, so you’ve read about them,” he smiled a little and Quartz glanced off to the side, hiding her mouth beneath her collar again.

 

( _The book fell heavily onto the desk, the loud sound of it making the other jump slightly as fear filled eyes nervously stared up into another pair that could only be described as absolutely feral._

_“Read it. Out loud.” came the chilling command as slitted pupils glared down at the librarian. The lonely light of the candle next to her provided little light, shrouding everything else around her in darkness. She gulped as she reached for the book with shaking fingers._

_“T-The,” she started, voice trembling, “The Book of Devil Fruits…”_ )

 

“Yeah, you could say that…” Quartz mumbled almost absentmindedly, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her usual teal jacket. “You’re a zoan, right?”

“ _Mystical_ Zoan,” Haruta corrected before Marco could say anything, “pretty awesome one too, he can heal himself and turn into a full-fledged phoenix, isn’t that neat?”

Quartz huffed, staring at the commander with something akin to…envy? He wasn’t sure, but the brief flash of melancholy didn’t escape him.

“Definitely won the lottery with his Devil’s Contract alright,” she said almost bitterly and the three around her gave her various looks of surprise and question. Particularly Ace pulled a rather stiff frown, dark eyebrows furrowing and his previously youthful face turned stony.

“What do you mean?” he asked bluntly and Marco had a feeling, they were reaching a sensitive territory. He gave a soundless sigh and prepared to interrupt the conversation when Quartz spoke up.

“What do _you_ mean; everyone knows that eating a devil fruit is basically a deal with the devil himself,” she stated crassly as she averted her eyes once again, head slightly tilting. “That’s why Mother Sea won’t accept you back, she rejects the devil’s children.”

Haruta regarded the youngest with a slightly horrified look, positively startled at the dark outlook the kid had. Marco felt how Ace went rigid next to him – this won’t end good, he knew how the 2nd commander felt about the whole _Devil’s Child_ business. And here he had hoped the brat wouldn’t end up too similar to Ace.

“That’s not true,” the freckled commander said through clenched teeth, now fully glaring at the kid, who narrowed her eyes right back at him.

“How about _you_ take a dip into the waters,” she hissed, facing him as she squared her shoulders, “let’s see how wrong I am when you sink like a sack of rocks.”

Haruta stepped forward slightly, “Quartz–“

Ace harshly breathed through his nose, nostrils flaring as he towered over the girl. She noted how he started to slightly smell like smoke. His narrow eyes were alight with anger.

“We might be vulnerable in the water, but Oyaji said–“

“Whatever the old man said, it won’t change the fact that you got yourself to be a cursed kid of the devil,” Quartz harshly interrupted him, nose curling as she sneered and Marco felt the need to defend his Captain, but the brat didn’t give him a chance. “One bite was enough for the sea to decide she doesn’t want you anymore – I swear, you talk about that man like he is some sort of saviour, I bet if he’d order you to jump overboard, you’d do it!”

The smell of smoke got stronger and Marco couldn’t help himself as he belted out a loud “ _Quartz!_ ” just in time as Haruta put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. But as soon as they did, Quartz violently ripped herself loose from the offending appendage.

“Don’t touch me!”

“What is wrong with you?! You can’t just say stuff like that!” Haruta berated her, looking both angry and worried. And Quartz? Quartz honest to God _growled_.

“He’s not my captain, and neither are any of you, don’t expect me to kiss your feet just because he put me onto his wretched ship!”

“He gave you a _place to stay_ ,” Ace barked, now clearly enraged, “the least you can do is pay him some respect!”

“He _kidnapped_ me!” Quartz shrieked, stretching her neck as far as she could to glare right into his face. “I never asked to be here, I never asked for any of this!”

In midst of the upstarting shouting match, which now seemed to attract a number of curious onlookers much to Marco’s embarrassment, he had a sneaking suspicion that Quartz’s retaliation wasn’t just about the current fight anymore. But Ace didn’t want to hear any of it, now fully on 180.

“All you ever do is be rude and ungrateful to everyone on here, no wonder you’re on the run, seems like no one else wanted you on land either!”

Haruta let out a small gasp and Marco knew that this was going to far – especially after seeing Quartz falter for a split second, but her anger came back with a newfound ferocity as a deep noise emanated from within her chest.

“Of course they didn’t, the people wouldn’t want you either,” she growled lowly, eyes ablaze as they met another set of dark pools, “ _no one wants a devil’s kid_.”

 

(“ ** _She’s not one of us._** ”)

 

The growing crowd around them were murmuring as Ace breathed harshly, her words stinging like burning coal, the only thing that seemed to be able to burn him. It was almost ironic how she called him that without knowing how close to home the title actually hit – of course he was the Devil’s Kid, the son with the demon blood, with cursed blood. She knew _nothing_.

A hand on his shoulder separated him from his stare-off with Quartz as Marco stepped between, looking positively angry at the both of them.

“That is _enough_ ,” he bellowed and Ace looked away with grim frown as his balled up fists shook at his sides. “Obviously you guys are not looking exactly eye-to-eye but to say such words was completely unnecessary! Look, Quartz, you seem to have some issues–“

Quartz nearly exploded.

“ _I don’t have fucking issues!_ ” she shouted and Marco honestly had it.

“Quartz, I said _enough_ –“

She snarled at him, hands at her sides and trembling shoulders raised, it was as if one could see the rage boiling up in her.

“Next island,” she grumbled through clenched teeth, looking slightly more pointed than before, “I’m leaving.”

Haruta gave her a look of disbelief and Marco blinked.

“What I came here for in the first place,” Quartz continued before she turned on her heel, “the next time you lot dock, I’m leaving this goddamn ship.”

And with that, she marched through the crowd, who gave her wide berth, steering clear from her path and her angry eyes. She ignored every call of her name, finally disappearing within the ship. Next to Marco, Ace scoffed before he too stomped off, fuming. Haruta looked at both retreating figures, honestly at a complete loss on what to do – they gave Marco a worried look. But the man just sighed heavily, suddenly feeling beyond exhausted.

This wasn’t good.

 

* * *

 

Much later, during dinner, Ace barely said a word as he ate his meal. Two meals less than normal. Izo sent Marco a questioning look, who only shook his head. Instead, he addressed Thatch.

“The brat came by?” he asked and the cook nodded.

“She sure did! But she didn’t stick around for too long, took like 3 peaches and left,” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “Come to think of it, she seemed pretty miffed.”

Marco nodded and looked back down onto his plate.

He wasn’t all that hungry anymore.

 

* * *

 

Most of the ship was asleep as it gently swayed with the waves beneath, beckoning everyone into the land of dreams. The sound of the ocean flew with the gentle wind, softly curling into Marco’s blond hair. He could smell the salt in the sea spray as he gazed out onto the dark water before him. At the sound of footsteps a good distance away, he turned his head to spot Ace making his way towards the cabins of the commanders. The freckled commander didn’t seem to notice him at all as he jumped down the few steps of the stairs, face sullen with how downturned his mouth was – his trademark orange hat had been pulled deeply into his face, covering his eyes. Marco let out a silent sigh as he watched Ace trudging through the door, rubbing his neck all the while with his Whitebeard tattoo staring right back at Marco. As soon as the younger disappeared behind the door, Marco faced the sea again.

He hasn’t seen Quartz the whole evening and he’s sure it was well past midnight. Craning his neck, he chanced a glance upwards, dark eyes searching the sails to hopefully catch the small shadow of a certain spitfire. They really, _really_ needed to talk. He was angry, worried and confused all at the same time – one minute he thought he finally had an inkling on how Quartz worked, and the next minute she clammed up all over again. It was frustrating, but most of all concerning – she was hiding something and apparently they were all getting too close for her comfort.

Marco tiredly rubbed his forehead. The last thing he wanted to do was to force her into talking, that’ll scare her away for good and she’ll be gone faster than he can say ‘ _Whitebeard_ ’. And…he didn’t want that. He really didn’t want Quartz to leave. It felt like giving up, like losing faith, because he knew – _Pops knew_ – that there was something inexplicably Whitebeard in her.

There was something, _something_ , that made her so fit for this ship as if she was destined to be here.

It happened with Ace – a wild boy with a heart as big as the ocean and a burden as heavy as a mountain, who had built walls to hide his longing, spit poison to keep people away yet yearned for love and acceptance. Pops saw something in him, saw his golden heart heavy with lead, the potential, the passion, the chase for freedom. Saw the boy who could love and lead and fight and be the best he could be.

And Marco knew, that Quartz could too. So he won’t give up, not when he knew that behind that scowl, the rude words, the brashness, there was a young girl who could grow and flourish into someone who will shake the very seas together with many other young talents out there.

His eyes watched the stars above, twinkling through the sails like diamonds in a sea of ink. Then, he smiled a little. Fine, if she won’t show herself, then he’d go looking – in his own way. Besides, it had been a while since he allowed himself to stretch. Nimbly, he hopped onto the railing, flickering blue flames already licking up his arms and legs. The familiar warmth felt nice as he stretched his arms out, letting himself be engulfed by brilliant azure fire. Then, he jumped, disappearing from the view.

And not a second later, up soared a magnificent phoenix, casting a luminous glow into the dark night.


	7. in which pieces start to fit together [Part I]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quartz deals with too many emotions, which she thought she had locked away years ago. Marco is determined to talk.  
> So they talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations!
> 
> FUN FACT: This chapter was done so quickly, like CHRIST, what is even writing lmao damn. HOWEVER, this is not the full part yet! mostly bc the full chapter would be way too long i actually want to have SOME form of consistency. this chapter here is to provide some further fodder to you conspiracy enthusiasts about Quartz' past, can't wait to hear what you have to say! IS IT READY FOR THE PITCHFORKS AND TORCHES YET??  
> H-Have fun reading...pls enjoy...and have a wonderful day, take care!  
> – Crow

* * *

 

Quartz couldn’t sleep.

It’s not like it was a first; she had many sleepless nights that at one point she had stopped counting and just went with whatever energy she had left. It wasn’t ideal, but she managed. She had to.

Biting her lower lip, she pressed her knees against her chest more tightly, willing herself into nothing more but a small ball, however mindful of the peaches within her jacket. The sea breeze ruffled up her hair and the salt stung in her sensitive nose – she was kinda cold. Maybe hiding within the sails again wasn’t such a good idea, but she didn’t want to be anywhere near the deck right now. Or ever. It’s not like she was afraid, just…cautious. Of the prying eyes, the whispers, the questioning looks, the dirty looks, angry looks, _disappointed_ looks – she shook her head before pressing her forehead against her knees.

Quartz had let them get too close.

Way too close.

This was why she had rules – do not rely on anyone, do not trust anyone but yourself and never stay in one place for too long and she broke every single one of them. They knew she couldn’t leave because she couldn’t swim, because she had a devil fruit, because she actually had this silly naive hope that things wouldn’t be so bad. And worst of all; Quartz, deep inside, didn’t want to leave.

And she _hated_ it.

Hated how much she enjoyed the sway of the ship at night, the limitless outlook on the stars she got, the quiet mornings where she got to watch the early risers set the sails, the feeling of the wind in her hair, the laughter of the crew. Hated how she liked the way Izo smelled always pleasantly of lavender and roses, the filling food Thatch cooked, how Haruta always seemed to have a clever quip ready on their tongue, the fact that Blenheim always appreciated her work, the way that Marco ruffled her hair, the way Ace would smile at every and anything– she hated how she let herself get attached. More so over the fact that she felt hurt at the words of Ace and simultaneously felt bad for making him upset.

This was exactly why she wouldn’t let herself get too close, because if you do, you get attached, you start to care, you start to feel and feelings always, _always_ got you hurt. Love, friendship, care, family – those things were way too fragile in a world like Quartz’. Those things didn’t last long, but the scars they left behind, they stay for a lifetime. Quartz couldn’t afford to let herself get too attached to this ship and its people, things don’t work out that way for her. Sometimes, she wondered however, if it was her own fault that such things always ended so awfully for her.

She didn’t want to think about it.

Another wind passed her, straightening the sails as Quartz stared straight ahead into nothing, willing herself to empty her head and just focus on generating a new plan on how to deal with the following day. Will she just go back to her post like nothing happened? Or should she just find a good hideout and wait out the entirety until they docked on an island and then make her grand escape? Or maybe she should just toss herself into the sea for all she cared, she thought miserably, blowing a purple strand out of her face. She hated dealing with feelings. She did just fine without them – curse those Whitebeards and their ridiculous patchwork family mentality.

With a sigh, she leaned her head back, softly knocking it against the wooden mast behind her as she stared up straight into the night sky, hoping to find an answer for everything within the stars themselves. There was none, of course, but they still looked awfully pretty, so Quartz stayed – watching the sky and listening to the ocean around her. It was peaceful, something to appreciate. That was until her ears twitched and she immediately snapped her head to the side. Quickly, her dark eyes flitted from corner to corner in order to take in as much of the environment around her – what the hell was that sound? 

She heard it again, now coming from her right and as quickly and carefully as she could, she jumped on to her feet, gripping the mast as she swung around just in time to get a small glimpse of a soft blue light vanishing beneath the other sail. With big eyes she watched how the luminous blue travelled behind the sail, glowing through the fabric as her ears picked up the sound of wings flapping in the wind. A bird? A _blue glowing_ bird?

Something in her screamed to be more careful, to stay suspicious, but the bigger part in her, childish, curious, starved for a reckless adventure, urged her to investigate – so she sprinted forward, clumsily balancing on the sail’s mast, thoughtlessly following the glow like a moth attracted to the flame. The glow dipped lower vanishing from her sight just as Quartz reached the end of the mast, stumbling slightly as she came to halt, promptly slipping and her butt almost painfully collided with the mast underneath her. She barely had time to hiss out a curse as she held onto the wood, when a brilliant azure bird with wings of blue-golden fire soared upwards right from underneath her. The warm wind it brought with made her hair billow and the warmth spread from her face right into her very finger tips and she couldn’t help but blink – stunned, surprised and most of all amazed.

“Whoa…” Quartz breathed out quietly as she watched the bird perform loops overhead, cutting through the night like a magnificent blue comet with fire trailing after it’s path, golden feathers catching the light.

 _So this was a phoenix_.

Quartz wasn’t stupid, she knew exactly who that bird was – at this point, she’d recognise the mark of Whitebeard on its chest on anyone. But she couldn’t bring herself to look away and hide. She had never seen something as beautiful as this; she’d seen exotic birds of all colours, monstrous beauties with tasteful patterns on their pelts, tropic fish with the rainbow in their scales, but a phoenix? All those pretty animals won’t even come close to how magnificent the phoenix looked.

Said bird completed a final spin before making a dive for Quartz, startling her slightly when it slowed down in front of her. Now unnerved by the closeness and the annoying familiarity of those knowing eyes, Quartz quickly slid backwards on the mast just as the phoenix gently landed on the wood. It folded its beautiful wings, craning its neck a little to look at the kid with dark glittering eyes. Feeling like those eyes were burning itself straight into her core, Quartz stubbornly looked to the side with a frown, tucking her chin behind her collar as she swung a leg over the mast to properly sit on it. She hunched her shoulders.

“What do you want, pineapple,” she muttered into the wind, unwilling to look at Marco any longer. The bird seemed to sigh, which irritated her slightly, before he let himself be engulfed by flames once again. Quartz squinted through the light and blinked before looking away again, when Marco carefully lowered himself next to her within reasonable distance.

For a while, none of them said anything, letting the wind blow through their hair and allowing its low noise to fill the growing silence between the two of them. Quartz wasn’t exactly sure on what to say, not after the whole embarrassing debacle from the afternoon. What was there big to say? Sorry I hurt Ace’s feelings? Your feelings? Anyone’s feelings? Honestly, she didn’t know how anyone could deal with this. It’s been a long, long time since she’s been confronted with something like… _this_. She’d gone years without feeling any kind of guilt or remorse or even sympathy. In her world…those things didn’t exist. Couldn’t exist, because those were the things that got you killed faster than a bullet. So, what was she to do? Quartz didn’t know.

“Quartz, yoi,” Marco’s voice cut through the silence like a knife, it startled her slightly but he must’ve seen the twitch as a sign that she was paying attention. “What is your devil fruit to you?”

It was…an odd question, she guessed. When people actually caught a glimpse of her actual power, they’d ask the usual questions:

_Is it powerful?_

_How useful is it?_

_How much human is left in you?_

She mulled the question over – but didn’t find a clear answer. So she stayed quiet, staring off into the dark horizon, shoulders bunched up to her ears and hands tucked away inside the pockets of her jacket. Marco didn’t seem to mind.

“You mentioned how people who eat devil fruits make a contract with the devil himself,” his voice carried out into the night and despite the topic, it sounded soothing, “that they give themselves over as the devil’s children. That’s how the old saying goes, not?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Quartz could see him shift his head slightly to look at her. After a short silence, the curiosity got the better of her and she dared a careful peek – only to have him look straight at her. Weirdly enough, he wore a tiny smile and Quartz was glad she had tucked her chin under her collar, because she could feel how her bottom lip threatened to shove itself forward into a petulant pout.

“You know, I didn’t take you being particularly religious, to be honest,” he mused, tiny smile still on his lips as he gazed forward once again, “you certainly don’t act like it. Or look like it, yoi.”

“D’you expect me to walk around in a goddamn preacher outfit?” Quartz finally grumbled sarcastically, purely out of habit and she internally slapped herself. Surprisingly, she heard Marco chuckle a little. He sounded…relieved.

“That’d be a sight, don’t let Thatch hear that or else he wouldn’t shut up about it,” the commander said, sounding amused. The air around them suddenly seemed lighter, despite the returning silence.

“…I’m not,”

It was a quiet statement, which almost got ferried away by the sea breeze. Marco turned his head towards her again, curious.

“Religious,” Quartz spoke up, this time a little bit louder than the previous whisper, “I’m not religious…not anymore, I guess.”

The last part fell into a whisper again, just in time as Quartz lifted a hand to gingerly press it against her sternum, much to Marco’s mild confusion. He watched how she lowered her gaze towards the spot, dark eyes unreadable. She looked like she was contemplating, the wind mussing up her hair, so Marco just waited patiently. Then, with the same hand, Quartz tugged her collar down to reach into her jacket and proceeded to pull out what looked like to be a necklace. A pretty thing, the way it caught the moonlight, Marco guessed it must be made out of some metal, decorated with colourful stone-beads. They closed in a loop, but at the front hung a longer part with some sort of ornament attached to it at the end. Marco looked closer as it flashed in the moonlight – a cross.

“This is a rosary,” the girl explained faintly, her eyes focussing on the wee thing swaying in the wind, “people use it to perform a particular prayer, counting off the beads. It is very common in where I came from.”

This must’ve been the closest Marco ever came to Quartz talking about something remotely relating to her past. He stared at the rosary, watching how the kid let it fall from her hand back against her chest as she returned her hand to her side, gripping the wood beneath them. Out of all things, the commander certainly hadn’t expected religious ties.

“I’m guessing the saying must come from your home then,” Marco wasn’t a stranger to the views of the church – devil fruits were one amongst many things the church universally condemned, maybe not all churches, but it was generally something many frowned upon. To possess such inhuman power, such a feat was only reserved for the God himself, or so they say. He could hear how Quartz released a deep breath, her eyes gazing up to the stars as she anew brought up a hand to grip the cross of the rosary.

“I don’t have a home, Marco.”

At that moment, there were many things the commander wanted to say; _yes you do, this ship can be your home_ , or, _hey, you got my name right_! but he held his tongue instead. This whole conversation brought a whole new sense into Quartz’ personality, more than he had ever deducted in _weeks_. He didn’t want to ruin it by being a complete idiot and scaring her away for good. However, his heart sank a little at the words and as the question slipped past his lips, he found that he already knew the answer:

“What is your devil fruit to you?”

The wind picked up slightly and the mast creaked when the sails tightened. Purple hair billowed, fanning around Quartz’ stony face like a dark halo as her mouth moved.

“A curse,” was the soft answer and she turned her head to look at Marco, hair whipping against her face as dark eyes looked at him, appearing way too mature and melancholic, “ _a sin_.”


	8. in which pieces start to fit together [Part II]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So close and yet so far. On the other hand, Marco's got some things to think about and Quartz probably has some blackmail material against Ace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR COMMENTS!!!  
> They all honestly make my day, I'm so glad you all enjoy this story, thank you so much for your support and interest! This honestly feeds my motivation lmao, but I'm glad to be able to write this much right now, I already felt like I'm getting out of touch with my writing after such a break and several mishaps. Thank god I got back onto track after a few One Shots.
> 
> ANYHOW.  
> Please do enjoy this chapter, here are some fluffy and not so fluffy feels for you there, and I wish you all a wonderful day! Take care!  
> – Crow

* * *

 

 

Devil Fruits always have been a risky business; the many ways to acquire them, their rarity, which caused many of them to go on uncharted, the gamble on what kind of powers one will gain from eating one, and the fact that one bite was enough to make you lose your ability to swim, forever. They were one of a kind, rare and vile tasting, an irreversible gift or curse, depending on how you looked at it.

And for Quartz, they were the absolute bane of her existence.

“Having a devil fruits’ power goes against human nature,” The wind howls quietly around them and Quartz set her gaze forward again, hand still clutching the cross of her rosary. “No human should be capable of having this much power. But I guess to them we aren’t as human as them anymore.”

The bitterness in her voice was palpable and Marco felt like they were picking at an old scab. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel perplexed. What the hell had those people been telling her? A mere child?

“That’s what they told you?” he asked almost incredulously and the look the girl sent him could’ve cut through steel.

“That’s what _everyone_ says,” she hissed, letting go of the cross as it harmlessly bounced back against her sternum, “To them, we aren’t human anymore – we are just some kind of monsters that happen to _look_ like them!”

“And that’s the reason on why you don’t trust anyone,”

An uneasy silence entered, thick and heavy like a blanket at Marco’s conclusion. It honestly was a pretty gutsy leap to make but the commander risked it anyways, as Quartz whipped her head around to stare at him. Her eyes blazed with something the elder couldn’t quite pinpoint – it looked ferocious enough to be categorised as anger, but there was something intense about it too. Something not quite anger, but not fully apprehension either. It looked more like _haunted_. 

A strong gust of wind howled slightly as it passed between the two of them and the girl tore her gaze away from Marco’s dark eyes. But instead of facing forward, she turned her face fully away from him, looking to the right as if she wanted to study the main mast.

“ _All people are rotten_.”

A quiet statement, half-growled, half-mumbled, and Marco didn’t say anything for a while. Instead, he just studied the back of her head; on one hand he wanted to prove her wrong and say that not all people are like that, but then again, he had met truly awful people during his lifetime too and it made him wonder how many rotten people Quartz had met to develop such a dark outlook on life. He chanced a glance at her hands, close to her side, tightly gripping the wood underneath – so tight, her knuckles turned white as her fingers dug into the material, making it creak slightly and Marco wondered.

_How far is she willing to go to keep this up?_

To live a life so suspicious of everything, Marco would barely call it living. But he guessed Quartz wouldn’t call it like that either, judging by her behaviour and her eyes – her eyes looking way too old to belong on a mere fifteen-year-old teenager.

“What happened to you?”

Silence.

Then, “Stuff.”

“And the Marines are after you because?”

He observed how she began to shift around uncomfortably.

“I told you, stuff happened, okay?” Quartz said disdainfully, facing forward once again while looking incredibly frustrated. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

The commander heaved an inaudible sigh, before carefully leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. Of course the kid wouldn’t open up as quickly as he had hoped, despite all the talking before – maybe those were enough revelations for today. It had been a rather emotionally stressful day after all, Marco had noticed that Quartz obviously had a big issue when it came to discussing emotions. Or anything at all about emotions. He could feel his forehead crease and he brought up a hand to idly smooth the lines out, so he won’t hear Izo’s voice in his head complain something about early wrinkles.

This all was so messed up.

Whatever happened to Quartz was messed up.

She’s just a kid that seemed to carry a too big of a burden, her eyes aged like some haunted prisoner of Impel Down, a head filled with so much distrust and suspicion it shut her heart away for so long that she could barely handle any kind of emotionally charged issue, stunting her understanding to the point that anger was the only thing she could properly understand. Marco couldn’t really blame her – whatever her past brought, she must’ve cried all the tears until there was none left and only made space for unbridled rage, nesting and festering inside of her, filling her to the brim with volatile fury and a language that called itself violence.

And it _pained_ Marco. It _pained_ him to know that there was a kid, right next to him, just shy of reaching her latest age as a teenager, behaving like an abandoned soldier, and it _angered_ him, that the same kid was thrust into a world of malice, which seemingly forced her to grow up in it until it was the only thing she understood. No child was supposed to be brought up that way. Not like that. _Never_ like _that_.

This time, his sigh was audible.

“It’s alright if you don’t wanna talk about it, yoi,” he said, changing the subject, “I actually came up here to ask if you’re okay from, y’know…”

Trailing off, he glanced back at Quartz who had her face buried up to her nose in her collar. She made a slight grimace as if she had eaten something bad. It made the commander grin slightly.

“You can’t run away from that one, kid,”

“I wasn’t running away, stupid Pineapple,” she scoffed indignantly, suddenly very invested in the idea of avoiding direct eye contact.

_Sure_ , _you weren’t_ , Marco thought, but swallowed it down in favour of saying seriously; “Being upset is one thing, but letting it out on others is another. It really wasn’t okay what you said to Ace, or what you said about Pops.”

The girl stubbornly glowered at her lap.

“…I don’t care,” she mumbled and Marco shrugged.

“Well, I do,”

“You really shouldn’t,”

Another sigh.

“Look, Quartz,” the commander began tiredly and that godawful guilt rose up in her chest again. “I’m not saying that you aren’t allowed to be upset, I actually greatly encourage voicing your opinion and concerns, as long as you do it in a respectful manner where no one gets hurt.”

Despite being clearly a scolding lecture, Quartz was surprised by the lack of heat behind those words. Yet, she almost lowered her head in shame as she mindlessly began to swing one of her legs in the wind, listening to the man next to her.

“What went down today…it seemed to be a big misunderstanding; none of us knew that we were talking about a clearly touchy subject until it was too late. And in the heat of the moment, words were thrown around and it got both Ace and you hurt. It happens sometimes and it’s honestly not the end of the world,” Marco explained gently, watching how the kid gripped her rosary again. Silently, she stared at the small ornament in her hand, before tucking it back under her jacket. As soon as it vanished out of sight, she sighed almost defeatedly.

“What do you suggest,” Quartz grumbled into her collar, sending him a grumpy glance. “Just go up to the human torch and say _I’m Sorry_?”

Marco could hear the sarcasm, but he gave her one of his small, sly grins.

“As a first step? Absolutely, yoi,”

Quartz looked at him like someone had force-fed her an entire peeled lemon. It made him snigger as the brat made a sound that was an impressive mix between an annoyed groan and a growl. She grumbled under her breath, something he couldn’t quite catch, but he just quirked his lips slightly. In an almost fond gesture, he brought up his hand to playfully ruffle her hair, the action making her squawk, embarrassed as per usual. Marco wondered if she ever could get used to such a casual gesture.

“Y’know,” he started almost thoughtfully, hand still buried within purple locks as Quartz stared up at him balefully, “you kinda remind me of Ace when he was new.”

The kid actually looked offended.

“But at least you didn’t try to kill Pops every few hours of the day, so good on you, kiddo.”

Quartz wasn’t really sure on what to say, so she just went with the first thing that popped up in her mind; “What the fuck?”

Because really? Ace trying to kill Whitebeard? After hearing him prattling along on how awesome this _Oyaji_ was, Quartz had a hard time believing that particular ( _yet mildly amusing_ ) fact. The previous curse however, earned her a soft bop on the head.

“ _Language_ , yoi,” Marco reminded her, his usual small but sly smirk on his face. The girl harrumphed a little and batted his hand away slightly, face still disbelieving.

“Kill Whitebeard? Him?” she questioned skeptically, scrunching her nose up in a way of confusion that Marco had become familiar with. “Freckles basically worships the ground the old man walks on, it’s kinda hard to believe that guy wanted to shank him.”

“Actually, he proclaimed to take his head.”

Quartz couldn’t help it; she barked out a short laugh, before smothering it in her collar. The commander was both surprised and incredibly pleased at his small victory of getting the brat to laugh. He’d probably mention it to the others, just to give them a rough idea. And maybe a few times more just to emphasise. He’s feeling smug like that.

“Take his head–“ the kid snorted, one corner of her mouth peeking over the edge of the collar that hid the otherwise wicked grin on her face. “That’s so lame.”

Marco continued to smirk, “Oh, trust me, we won’t let him hear the end of it; he was pretty stubborn during the whole ordeal, so we kinda treat it like some embarrassing teenage phase he went through.”

She actually sniggered ( _quietly_ ) at that one, when Marco quirked an eyebrow, playfully poking her in the side.

“Hey, you guys are pretty similar,” he said, highly amused when he saw her scrunch her nose up again, “he didn’t take it lightly either being taken onto the ship when he was unconscious.”

“ _What the fuck–_ ”

“Don’t take it in that way, yoi,”

So, he told her a brief summary on Ace’s entry into the Whitebeard crew – his fight with Pops, his stubborn streak on the ship as he made several attempts on assassinating the Strongest Man In The World, when he finally took on the mark of Whitebeard. Marco made sure however, to leave out particularly sensitive information about Ace’s background. That was another story for another time, preferably told by Ace himself. Quartz, now fully swinging both of her dangling legs, in a show of unusual childishness, looked at him with large, disbelieving eyes.

“What the hell,” was the first thing she blurted out after Marco finished, “I’m nothing like him!”

“Mildly true, he was a bit worse, but you seem twice as stubborn,” the commander mused and Quartz pouted slightly behind her collar.

“At least I didn’t say anything as lame as ‘ _I’ll have your head!_ ’,”

“Actually, if I remember correctly, you said something along the lines of ‘ _I’m here for your heart!_ ’, right, yoi?”

She spat curses at him, her face crimson in embarrassment as she aimed a leg at his ankles. Despite her attempt at violence, he laughed lightly, evading her short legs easily. Marco hadn’t forgotten the conversation they had before, not when the words had been heavy with an unknown burden the girl seemed to carry. But the sight of Quartz now, still mildly flushed, acting every bit of an embarrassed younger sibling, made Marco think that maybe it was enough for tonight. That maybe, right now, they both needed a break. So instead, he poked more fun at her introduction from weeks ago, causing her to rage-flail so hard she nearly toppled over, had Marco not caught her arm in time.

 

* * *

 

“Will you speak to him tomorrow?”

“…maybe.”

A small quirk of a lip.

“I’ll take it.”

Blue fire illuminated the night once more.

And that night, Quartz dreamed of blue-golden flames chasing away dark shadows of the past.


	9. in which everything gets kinda better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quartz continues to be a complete disaster when it comes to the finer arts of communication.  
> or; Quartz is Bad at feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI EVERYBODY!!
> 
> Today I have a surprise for you! A 4K SPECIAL! No, really, this chapter is 4k long and I didn't have the heart to cut it into two pieces, because I knew yall are waiting for that Mending between Ace and Quartz. So, instead, have the uncut version!  
> Despite the length, this chapter was super fun to write, mostly because I can relate to half of Quartz' actions in this chapter lmao, pls join me in making fun of this little disaster adhjvhk––  
> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR COMMENTS AND THE KUDOS!!  
> I hope yall enjoy this chapter, thank you for your support! Let me know what you think!
> 
> Funfact: We're close to finishing the first part of this series! I'm looking forward to write all the whitebeard crew shenanigans lmao and of course some more of Quartz!
> 
> I wish you all a wonderful day, take care!  
> – Crow

* * *

 

 

“Oh,”

A small and rather surprised sound, unusual for Blenheim. He held a whole canon up in his hand as if it weighed nothing more than a ball of yarn, and blinked down at Quartz, who sat crosslegged and hunched over near a toolbox, sorting everything out. Round dark eyes stared up at him almost apprehensively.

“Hello, haven’t seen you all day,” Blenheim then continued, unperturbed by the sudden appearance of the kid as he laid down the canon on the worktable. “Mind passing over the mallet? Gotta fix that wheel.”

The kid did as she was told, silently handing over a rather sizeable mallet before scurrying off to search for the appropriate nails they would need for the damaged canon wheel. They worked silently for a while until the last nail was properly secured within the wood. Blenheim removed the canon from the table to test it out on the floor, judging the smooth roll of the wheel before deeming it fixed. Meanwhile, Quartz busied herself with cleaning the workplace, shuffling the tools in to their appropriate places and generally scuttling around to fix everything up.

Or so she seemed.

“Why are you hiding around, kid?”

At Blenheim’s question, she froze mid-run, almost comically hanging in the air, before she turned her head around to look at him with big eyes from under her bandanna. For a few eerie seconds, she just stared at the large man, before squeaking;

“I’m not hiding!”

The man’s face didn’t change as he stared for a while, before turning his attention back at the task at hand.

“I see,” was all he said, clearly not believing a word, it almost physically pained Quartz that she had been found out. It felt like a giant arrow had lodged itself into her back addressed with the words ‘ _I’M A LIAR_ ’ in big fat letters and Quartz wondered how hard she had to punch the ship walls to create a sizeable hole, so she could slip through and drown herself.

“I’m not lying,” she grumbled and Blenheim hummed.

“Never implied that you did,”

Quartz’ right eye twitched and her mind screamed _This is a trap, this is a trap, this is a trap_ , so she abruptly straightened her back, hastily hung the broom she was holding next to the saw and threw the mallet into the small cleaning cupboard. Before Blenheim could bring her attention to her obvious mistake, she power walked past him with a scrambled ‘ _the cook wants me to peel the sink and clear the potatoes, so see you, bye_ ’ and then zipped out of the workshop, almost tripping an entering Curiel.

“What’s up with her?” Curiel asked puzzled. Blenheim just shrugged.

 

* * *

 

Quartz was _not_ hiding.

And she wasn’t stalling either, she’s simply trying to find a…suitable time for her official apology to Ace. Unfortunately, the time wasn’t right yet, so she decided to go on with her day as per usual, careful to not meet Ace under an circumstance since her offical apology wasn’t ready yet.

And no, she wasn’t avoiding Ace either.

…

Okay, _fine_ , she might be skulking around in some unfamiliar hallway just to explicitly avoid the 2nd commander. _Yes_ , she was stalling and _yes_ , her going above and beyond just to stay out of Ace’s sight might be categorised as hiding, but in her defence; she had no fucking clue on how to start a conversation that might lead to her official apology without her losing face or temper. It was already bad enough that Thatch had caught her hunkering out in one of his kitchen cupboards. _That_ was an interesting experience, probably pretty memorable for the cook, given that he shrieked so loudly, he nearly shattered all surrounding glassware with the pitch alone after opening the cupboard, only to find a pair of big dark eyes staring back at him over the rim of stacked up plates.

Quartz rubbed her ears, wincing a little when she could still hear the faint ringing within them after being inadvertently caught up in the range of Thatch’s impressive imitation of a soprano singer, that had one passing cook dropping half of the plates she was carrying in shock. The scream was then immediately followed by a disbelieving reprimand, which made Quartz cringe again.

( _“Oh my fucking god, what the bloody hell are you doing in there?!”_ )

Alright, hiding with the plates wasn’t the best idea she had, but let’s be real, she was kinda desperate at this point. Especially since she tried to avoid Marco too, not wanting to be a subject to his Face Of Neutral Displeasure. Hiding from Marco was a feat in and on itself, since it seemed like the guy had a knack for finding her at the oddest places and it honestly made her a tad paranoid. 

The sound of approaching footsteps made her whirl around to face the door down the hall, the one she entered through. The steps sounded heavy, probably wearing boots, a little tired and seemed to hit in the rhythm of a rather laid-back gait. The noise pattern and approaching smell of campfire immediately triggered Quartz’ fight or flight response – of course Ace had to walk in on her standing in an empty hallway all by herself looking like she just got caught stealing someone’s snacks. Franticly, she looked around; there were doors everywhere, but she had no idea where they might lead – for heaven’s sake, one of these rooms could be _Ace’s_ and that’s gonna be one awkward meeting if he decided to enter.

The main door down the hallway creaked open and Quartz wanted to scream bloody murder. She was not ready to face the 2nd commander yet, she barely rehearsed her official apology, maybe she could make do with a lame ‘ _sorry I hurt your dumb feelings_ ’– wait, no, calling his feelings dumb wouldn’t be very nice, _dammit_ , this is why she didn’t like dealing with emotions– there was a call of Ace’s name, slightly muffled through the half-open door and the young man stopped in his movements to turn around with a questioning ‘ _yeah?_ ’, subsequently stalling his entry and Quartz could’ve cried actual tears of relief. Instead, she took the chance to race down to the other way of the hallway, coming to an almost screeching halt in front of the massive door. Briefly, she wondered who the actual hell needed such a big ass door, but she dismissed her thought in favour of yanking the door open and all but diving into the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Leaning against the wood, she panted as sweat beaded on her temple, all thanks to the short-lived panic. Quickly, she pressed her ear against the wood; muffled through the material, she could faintly hear Ace conversing with who ever called him. Good, so he didn’t notice anything. Quartz let go of a small sigh, straightening back up. Then, her ears perked at the sound of faint breathing behind her and her neck hair stood straight at the feeling of being watched. Almost mechanically, she turned her head to peer over her shoulder.

Reclined onto a massive bed, was Whitebeard, hooked up to some strange mechanic contraptions with tubes running up to his nose. His hand, halfway out of a nearby nightstand, frozen midair as it held a sealed tankard filled with something.

They both stared at each other in complete stunned silence for a few seconds.

Then, Quartz’ nose twitched.

“Nee-sama said you weren't allowed to drink booze,”

She could’ve slapped herself – here she was, having hidden in the captain’s chambers in blind panic because she was bad at feelings, and the first thing she did was to reprimand him for his drinking habits that were no doubt detrimental to his health, why did she even _care_. To his credit, the captain barely batted an eye at that and merely sighed, sinking back against a pile of pillows while wrenching out the cork of the tankard.

“Meh,” he huffed, taking huge a gulp of what Quartz now identified as sake, “my dearest Paya is way too hard on me, there’s nothing wrong with having a drink from time to time, not?”

He grinned at her, amber eyes glinting with youthful mischief and Quartz now kind of understood Paya’s laments she was exposed to when she spent three days within the med bay.

“But enough of me,” Whitebeard said, now raising an eyebrow as he took in the kid’s harried appearance, “I’m more curious on as to why my youngest suddenly decided to storm into my chambers unannounced, looking like the devil himself had been chasing her.”

Quartz opened her mouth to retort that she was not being chased, when a sudden knock at the door interrupted her.

“Oyaji? It’s me, do you have a minute?” Ace’s muffled voice came through the door and Quartz immediately scrambled away from the door as if it burned her. Now with both eyebrows raised, Whitebeard watched how the girl literally ran in circles before hopping onto his bed, diving out of sight underneath his massive coat into the hollow space between the fabric and the pillow. He blinked, thoroughly confused until Quartz stuck her little head out, pointing up at him.

“I was never here,” she hissed at him, before vanishing back into her hiding spot. There was another knock at the door.

“Oyaji?” came another tentative call and Whitebeard cleared his throat slightly.

“Yes, come in, my boy,”

The door creaked a little as Ace stepped inside, bringing a hand up to push his hat off of his head as he smiled at his captain.

“Hey,” the commander greeted, “I’m just here to inform you about the island we’re stopping at. A regular trades location called Lobelia Island – guess what they’re known for.”

Ace chuckled and Whitebeard grinned anew.

“Ah, yes, good ol’ Lobelia,” he mused before taking another swig of his sake, “a nice place, they get plenty of pirates stopping for trades and supplies. I trust that your siblings have started to take inventory in case we need to restock?”

The commander nodded, “Yeah, Marco had needled all of us into checking everything. Thatch has already started a list on what foods we need once we reach Lobelia.”

“Excellent. When will we be docking?”

“Haru calculated in around two to three days. How long do you wish to stay?”

Whitebeard hummed, taking another drink.

“I think three days should suffice, enough to get everything restocked and have some free time for yourselves,” he decided and Ace nodded, turning around to take his leave, when the captain stopped him.

“You seem tired, my son,”

Slightly startled, Ace gave him a wide-eyed look of surprise, before shaking his head slightly to smile at the old man. It still held an amount of warmth, but Whitebeard could see the tired lines underneath his eyes and the slight slump in his shoulders.

“I’m fine, Oyaji, I just–“ Ace hesitated and then sighed almost heavily. “Have you by any chance seen Quartz?”

Said brat shifted uncomfortably within her little hideout.

“Can’t say I have,” the captain mused, “she’s a sneaky little bugger, maybe ask Marco; he seems to be pretty good at sniffing her out.”

_Yeah, no shit_ , Quartz supplied bitterly in her head.

“Oh,” was the only thing Ace said, sounding almost disappointed and possibly even more tired, “yeah, I’ll go ask him. Thank you anyway, Oyaji, also careful with the booze. I heard Paya’s gonna make her rounds soon.”

Whitebeard almost made the whole chamber shake with his rumbling laughter as Ace took his leave, chuckling slightly. The door fell close behind him and the captain settled again. Then, he lifted his coat to reveal the tiny ball Quartz had curled herself up in.

“Chickening out, I see,” was the first thing he said and she fought down the strong urge to flip him off. Instead, on childish impulse, she formed a fist and stuck her thumb between her fore- and middle finger, presenting it to him.

“Here,” she groused, “you can have your nose back, I found it in my business.”

The cheeky action made the man bark out a laugh in amusement and he took another swig, allowing Quartz to crawl out of her hiding. The kid jumped back onto the floor and made a beeline towards the door, pressing her ear against the wood again. No footsteps to be heard and the faint smell of campfire and grilled meat has already faded into a cold trail. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“How much longer will you play this waiting game, brat?” Whitebeard spoke up behind her, regarding her with a genuinely curious but also calculating look. Quartz peered over her shoulder grumpily.

“I’ll talk to him eventually…” she muttered, cringing slightly at how her voice trailed off weakly at the end, making her sound doubtful. If Whitebeard noticed, he didn’t show it as he brought the tankard back up to his lips again. Lowering his drink again, his gaze turned unreadable – but in a way that made Quartz somehow not as uncomfortable as she expected.

“Sometimes, apologising feels like a very hard thing to do,” the man said, tearing his gaze away to stare up at his ceiling. The wood was decorated with various old maps of his younger days, with trinkets hanging down on strings – simple pearls swaying softly with the ship, lanterns tinkling gently. “But in the end, it’s the right thing to do.”

He brought his gaze back down to spot Quartz half turned towards him, one hand on the doorknob and regarding him with a careful look. Her dark eyes glittered slightly in the dim candle light and Whitebeard could feel his heart grow a little heavy at the fact, that the flames reflected in her eyes were the only thing that exuded warmth. He fully lowered his tankard down onto his thigh.

“I always liked to see the fire in you young people, you know?” he started, “You are all always so eager to make a name for yourselves, no wonder by such vitality. However, I’m starting to wonder why your eyes unsettle me so much.”

Quartz scrunched her nose up in confusion and Whitebeard turned serious.

“They seem too old, too cautious, and yet, so lonely at the same time,” at the man’s words, Quartz’ before animated face carefully turned to stone, features visibly smoothed out into a blank canvas. The captain rose a brow. “You only prove my point like that.”

“…there is nothing to prove,” Quartz mumbled, turning the knob in her hand as she opened the door, her back towards Whitebeard.

“Where is your family, brat?”

The question made her halt for a moment. She turned her head slightly, but her overhanging fringe covered her eyes.

“Don’t have one,”

She could feel his intense gaze on her back.

“Everybody has one,”

There was a short silence. Quartz turned her head forward again, stepping out of the room.

“Not me,” was the muttered farewell Whitebeard got, before Quartz closed the door behind her. “I’m not one of them.”

The old man was left to his thoughts, candles providing little light as everything else in his room was thrown into warm shadows dancing on his walls. Whitebeard sighed, bringing his tankard back up and tipping it over the edge of his lips.

 

* * *

 

The sun had set, only a thin strip of fading vivid orange remained on the horizon, looking like it’s slowly being swallowed up by the ocean itself. Quartz watched it go, slumped over the railing on deck, chin resting on the wood as she, honest to god, _pouted_. Sulking up a storm, Quartz glared at the retreating sun, completely uncaring that she was now out in the open. The recent conversation with Whitebeard had left her in a sour mood and she half stomped off to find a new hiding place. But after a few hours of all the echoes of the reprimands for her cowardice she received today ringing in her head, she decided to throw in the towel and go off sulking.

She promised herself to never fall within the childish category. Now look at her; all pouty and miserable and no step further with her official apology. What was she even going to say? Just a plain old _Sorry_? For some reason she felt like it wasn’t going to be enough. Why was she even indulging in this? She could just. Just walk away and never deal with this again. Just wait it out, hunker down somewhere, ignore everyone and wait for the ship to dock and then take her leave.

It’s not like she’ll be back anyway.

Unwillingly, the picture of Marco with his usual sly half-grin popped up in her mind and she could almost feel the phantom hand of his playfully ruffling up her purple locks – Quartz squeezed her eyes shut. Anger filled her; she didn’t want to deal with this, she never had to before, why was she following the words of some high and mighty 1st commander? Then, cold shame spilled and dimmed the hot fury in her chest; she was ashamed that she had let herself be put in such a situation, that she wasn’t careful enough, that she was absolutely _stupid_ enough to believe she could beat _Whitebeard_ – that she had let herself get too attached to the few people who showed her nothing but kindness and the entry to their hearts. She opened her eyes again, suddenly feeling incredibly tired as the last sun rays finally vanished beneath the horizon.

Ace was right.

She was nothing but an ungrateful brat, who took everything she was given and never gave anything back, choosing to gain whatever opportunity was present and immediately drop it the second her source dried out. Quartz never looked back, never thought twice, always moving, always on the run – to the point where she wasn’t even sure anymore what she was running from. But she guessed, it was easier that way. To survive that way, because the dream and hope of a normal life was something she had long given up on. Her chase for it had brought nothing but misery, betrayal and disappointment at every turn for her.

So she gave up.

Quartz gave up living and chose to survive instead. By turning exactly into what had brought her all the trouble in her short life; a bandit, a deceiver, a parasite, a traitor – a person that no-one could trust. If her life would’ve been a novel, she’s sure it would be a tragedy.

And the thought of it made her sad.

But that’s all she knew.

Her self-piteous wallowing was interrupted by an unexpected but soft bop on the head, the surprise of it nearly enough to make her jump. Quartz hadn’t heard anyone approaching her and she silently cursed at her lack of attention, when she caught a whiff of campfire and grilled meat, all accented by the natural scent of the sea breeze.

Ace walked past her, warm hand disappearing from her hair, narrow eyes set forward as he approached the galley.

“Dinner is on,” was all the commander mumbled, trudging on without looking back. Quartz watched his retreating figure, the lit lanterns casting shadows upon the grinning tattoo on his freckled back, looking way too real and the further Ace got – with no usual cheeky grin, sunny smile, amusing quip – the further the panic rose in Quartz’ chest. Was that her chance? Or was she gonna blow it again? Destroying what little connection she had with Ace, with Marco, with anyone on this ship, like with all the other people she had lured into her false game to survive. Was he even going to forgive her?

She gripped the wood of the railing so hard her knuckles turned white – she could feel her claws coming out, digging into the material.

_Was this a gamble?_

One apology, that's all. And yet, she felt like she’s putting everything on the line. Because for one time in her life, she actually wanted to do things _right_.

 

( _“Sometimes, apologising feels like a very hard thing to do. But in the end, it’s the right thing to do.”_ )

 

Quartz could feel how her claws chipped off some wood as she threw herself forward onto the deck, stumbling slightly before stomping her foot, hands curled into fists, sharp nails digging into her flesh as she bared her teeth.

“Hey, _asshole_!”

Well, at least she got his attention. Albeit Ace turned around with a rather confused and mildly affronted expression, as if to say ‘ _What did I do this time?_ ’, brows furrowed and eyes tired. Quartz didn’t dwell too much on her disastrous opening sentence, because the words suddenly welled up in her throat like an uncomfortable wave of nausea.

“I’m sorry that I hurt your dumb fucking feelings, okay?!” She really didn’t have to yell, but she did anyway, panic high in her chest and nervous energy bubbling beneath her skin as she watched how Ace’s face went dumbfounded. “I’m sorry I made you upset because I was too insecure about my own fucking issues, so stop being sad!”

Quartz reeled back, inhaling deeply as she clapped both of her hands over her traitorous mouth before she could sound out an embarrassed screech. Stop being sad? Stop being _sad_?! What kind of backwards-land half-assed rude ass apology was _that_? Insecure about her own issues? Where the _hell_ did that come from? Whatever, she was exactly 5 seconds away of tossing herself into the water, so she could die with some small semblance of peace. A few feet across from her, stood a hopelessly confused Ace, who started blinking in surprise and the both of them stared at each other in an awkward silence.

“Wha–“ Ace started, before his mouth clicked shut, lips curling suspiciously as his shoulders began to tremble slightly. Quartz could feel the heat flooding into her cheeks as she heard a faint snort escaping the young man’s mouth. Unbelievable, here she was offering her piece of truce and the first thing the shithead did was to laugh at her? Her right eye began to twitch and Ace tried to cover his quivering mouth with his hand. “W-What kinda backhanded apology was that?”

Quartz’ face exploded into an interesting shade of red, one could mistaken it for one of the beads around the commander’s neck, and Ace lost it. He doubled over, positively cackling as he nearly cried and he had to brace himself on the railing next to him when his legs threatened to give out under him. The kid, on the other hand, was everything but amused.

“ _Stop laughing!_ ” she shrieked, looking beyond embarrassed with her cheeks still as red as a cherry, “That was an honest apology from the bottom of my heart, you dickwhistle! Don’t make fun of me!”

There were actual tears streaming down Ace’s cheeks as he continued with his roaring laughter and Quartz wanted to _scream_. This was humiliating.

“I can’t– I’m–“ the commander managed to wheeze through his hysterics, “you actually looked like– you looked like you were in _pain_ , I’m–“

He dissolved into new cackles, shoving his face into the crook of his arm as he brought down his fist against the wood of the railing. Quartz, still in a rage state with her fangs fully exposed, screeched anew.

“Shut up!”

It took Ace another minute until the only thing that came out of his mouth was a pathetic wheeze, when he finally started to calm down. He chuckled, wiping his face clean of the amused tears he had shed before shoving his crooked hat off his head.

“You done?” Quartz asked, still slightly red and looking absolutely miserable. And finally, _finally_ , Ace looked at her with that cheeky, friendly, _stupidly sunny_ grin of his. He snickered.

“Yeah, I think I’m done,” he said, leaning back against the railing, elbows propped up as he regarded her with an amused glint in his eyes. “but I don’t think I’ll ever forget that experience.”

Quartz huffed, “Of course you won’t. If you tell anyone else, I’ll shank you in your sleep, Fire Butt.”

Ace barked out a laugh, head tossed back and teeth glinting in the light of the lanterns.

“Sure you will,” He reached out with one hand to ruffle up her hair, making her squawk indignantly before pinching her nose. “and it’s Fire _Fist_ , you little snot.”

“Whatever,” she growled, batting his hand away and wiggling her nose a little. Then, she tucked her chin under her collar, eyes expertly avoiding his gaze. “…I meant it, you know.”

The elder next to her looked surprised and she huffed, embarrassed all over again.

“The apology,” she muttered into her collar, “I meant it. I’m sorry about what happened. What I said to you.”

A small gust of wind passed and the lanterns tinkled gently above them as Ace blinked down at Quartz, who pointedly avoided looking at him. She wasn’t cowering, but something shimmered within her normally passive eyes. She looked…vulnerable. For a second, Ace thought he was reading her all wrong, because for a long time he couldn’t even imagine Quartz – bratty, fiery and foulmouthed Quartz – being vulnerable. But here she was, looking every bit of a child that she was supposed to be, but somehow missed out on. His eyes softened a little and he turned his gaze forward.

“I’m sorry too,” he said after a while and from the corner of his eyes he could see Quartz perking up. It brought a soft smile onto his face. “I said some pretty hurtful stuff to you, so I’m sorry about that. And that I let my temper get the best of me.”

Ace craned his neck, eyes set onto the stars which started to light up the night sky.

“I guess…we both have our own demons to work through,” he mused softly, before looking back down at Quartz, who had turned her gaze towards the ocean. She seemed thoughtful, but Ace spotted the familiar flash of apprehensiveness and hidden rage in her eyes. Familiar, because those same eyes sometimes stared right back at him whenever he looked into a mirror.

“…yeah,” was the quiet answer Ace got and he quirked his lip a little, closing his eyes as another sea breeze caressed his hair. “Looks like I have no choice but to accept your apology, judging by how sappy that little speech of yours was.”

Peaceful moment now shattered thanks to Quartz’ bratty mouth, Ace gaped at her.

“Excuse me?!” he spluttered in absolute disbelief and he heard her snort, the sound infectious with how his own mouth started to curve without his permission, “You are such a little _shit_.”

“Tell me something new,” was the cheeky retort and Ace shook his head, chuckling. He shoved himself off the railing, placing his hat back onto his head as he turned around.

“Hey,” he said, catching Quartz’ attention and she turned to face him, only to earn herself a flick to the forehead, startling a squeak out of her. She was met with a bright grin. “C’mon, cat brat, dinner’s ready! Last one there is a rotten egg!”

And with that, Ace raced towards the galley, laughing all the way with a blustering Quartz hot on his heels.

 

* * *

 

Their whole table seemed to collectively sigh in relief when the youngest pair arrived, bickering loudly with each other unlike the tense silence they shared the day before. Quartz pulled back the head of a spoon filled with peas, which barraged all over Ace’s face and one even hit him in the eye. In retaliation, he pressed her face into her little gravy filled mashed potato pool she had created on her plate. It sparked a huge argument and suddenly, they fought over the last piece of steak, yanking the meat back and forth between each other with their forks.

Despite the chaos, Marco smiled.


	10. in which dusk falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lobelia is beautiful, and yet, Quartz is still a little lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya everyone!
> 
> GOSH GUYS I'M SO EXCITED OH MAN– WE'RE SO CLOSE!! Soon, the first part of the Tiger Cub series will be complete and then we can move on with even more Whitebeard Shenanigans and Family Feels, I can't wait to start writing!!  
> Thank you so much for your kind words and support, I never thought this story would attract such attention! I'm glad that all of you want to be a part of Quartz' journey – I still have so much planned! Please do enjoy the new chapter, let me know what you think! This one might be a bit of feels trip OH MAN.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING:  
> \- mentions of scarring
> 
> Take care everyone, have a wonderful day and stay safe!  
> – Crow

* * *

 

“ _Land, ho!_ ”

 

Numerous heads look up towards the lookout pointing ahead of them from the crow’s nest, squinting through the merry sunlight. Swift as a ferret, Haruta jumped onto the railing, holding onto the rigging ropes to lean over the ship’s edge. An excited smile broke out on their face as their eyes spotted Lobelia Island not far ahead of them.

“Sweet!” they cheered, jumping back on deck, “Everyone, get ready for docking! You too, Teach!”

While passing, they nudged a snoring Teach, who promptly startled awake at the hard nudge of the commanders foot.

“A-Aye..?” he spluttered, still halfway in dreamland before he heaved himself up to help with the preparations. With heavy footsteps, he scuttled past Quartz, who looked up at the steadily growing noise of the ship coming alive. She lowered her carving knife, a gift from Blenheim, with the goofy woodcarving of Stefan the dog only halfway done in her other hand.

“Quartz, yoi,” At the call of her name, the kid turned around to see Marco not far off, holding a clipboard. With a rather lazy hand movement, he waved her close, not commenting on how she hesitated for a second before uncrossing her legs under her to trot up to him. Marco half-grinned down at her. “Hey, ready for some exploring?”

“I thought you guys already visited Lobelia,” she counter-questioned him and Marco gave her a slightly puzzled look.

“How’d you know that?”

_Shit_.

“I just assumed,” Quartz said almost too quickly, avoiding his suspicious stare by busying herself with folding the collapsible blade of her carving knife into it’s wooden handle. No way in _hell_ was Pineapple about to find out the whole dilemma she went through, after he told her to apologise to Ace two days ago. It was already bad enough that he thought she scared Thatch on purpose, when she hid in his plate cabinet. For that, she called the cook a snitch at dinner and nearly got herself banned from dessert as a result. Quartz glanced back up at Marco, who still regarded her with a raised eyebrow as he hummed.

“Well,” he started, looking back down at his clipboard, “it’s always nice to re-visit islands. Who knows? Maybe they’ll have something new to offer. Besides, you’ve never been there, we can show you around if you want.”

_And probably keep an eye on you_ , the 1st commander added silently, watching from the corner of his eyes how Quartz started to lean over the railing to catch a glimpse of the oncoming island.

“Nah, I think I’m good,” was the response he got and inwardly, he sighed; he had expected as much. She and Ace may have made up, judging by the way they have fallen back into their usual childish squabbling ( _just yesterday, Ace had been complaining on how she kept on pinching him – turned out that Quartz had only been doing that because Ace won’t stop poking her in the cheek_ ), but Marco wasn’t so sure if she had laid off the idea of leaving the ship for good after they dock. His train of thought was interrupted, when they were approached by a red-haired woman in her twenties, toothpick hanging from the corner of her mouth.

“Commander,” she greeted Marco with a nod and a growing grin. With her thumb, she pointed over her shoulder. “Storage room all cleaned up, ready for restock. Them empty boxes are on their way to the workshop now.”

“Great work,” Marco praised, before launching into another set of instructions, the lady nodding along with her hands on her hips. Quartz droned out the boring duty talk in favour of scrutinising the stranger next to her; unsurprisingly, still grated on her nerves though, the woman was tall, almost reaching Marco in height. Her red hair had been swept up in a series of big and smaller plaits, all neatly tied back into a ponytail with a few wavy strands framing her face. Her eyes were hazel, twinkling with some sort of underlying mischief and humour, and her skin was the colour of a warm, dark brown – what drew Quartz’ eyes however, was the long, pale scar, running down vertically over the right side of the lady’s full lips. It wasn’t a clean scar, like if one would accidentally slice their skin with a knife; instead, it was kind of jagged as if someone had cruelly ripped a saw right over her face.

Quartz wasn’t aware she’d been staring for too long until her eyes met a pair of hazel ones, evidently bringing her out of her reverie. However, the lady didn’t seem angry, in the contrary; she grinned at the brat, almost excited, her toothpick dancing from one corner to the other. She bent down slightly to get a good look at Quartz, who almost shrunk at the unexpected closeness.

“Hiya there!” Big Lady said brightly, “I don’t think we have met officially, considering I usually work in the lower parts of the ship. You must be Quartz!”

“Y-Yeah…” Her words tumbled clumsily from her mouth and she could hear Marco chuckle.

“Quartz, this is Begonia,” he gestured towards the woman, who straightened up again, bright grin still in place, “she’s a Kuja, and part of the 1st division – my division, to be exact.”

Begonia waved in an obviously friendly gesture and Quartz silently nodded back in recognition, not wanting to appear too rude in front of Marco – the neutral Face of Displeasure still haunted her. Their little meet-and-greet was interrupted by another yell from the crow’s nest;

“ _Closing in on Lobelia!_ ”

Begonia huffed in amusement, turning to Marco.

“That’s my cue, better get the others downstairs ready,” The commander nodded, before giving her a paper from the clipboard. With the paper in hand, Begonia retreated back into the deeper ends of the ship, waving. “See you guys later! It was nice meeting you, kitten!”

At the new nickname, Quartz immediately made an affronted sound, hair almost comically puffing up like the fur of a cat and Marco had to bite down a grin.

“ _I’m not a kitten!_ ”

 

Lobelia was a pretty island; the town was laid out with light coloured stone paths leading into the bright plaza, which was marked with a big and artfully sculpted water fountain. Various small shops were sprinkled all over the town, wooden frames and big clear windows to get a good look at the showcased wares, the shop’s overhanging signs gently creaking in the wind. And true to it’s name, wherever one looked, there were plenty of lobelias growing on various free patches or in flower pots situated decoratively on the streets. Their indigo colours matched well with the overall rustic atmosphere of the town, filled with friendly people and laughing children chasing each other over the stone paths.

Truly, a very peaceful island, Quartz thought as she stepped out of the docked Moby Dick, walking a little further away from the wooden landing onto the docks. She took a look around, spotting various fishermen and bigger trading ships – there were even a few pirate ships, but judging by the relaxed atmosphere of the locals, she guessed they must be here for business reasons instead of looking for trouble. Ahead of her, she spied Marco, conversing with a slightly older looking man holding a clipboard; they seemed familiar with each other, exchanging friendly gestures. Quartz guessed that the man must be the dock manager.

“Hey, Quartz!”

She whirled around, eyes travelling up the Moby to see Ace leaning over the railing, small grin on his face as he waved at her. Stepping closer to the ship, she looked up expectantly.

“What,” she said, burying her hands within the pockets of her jacket, only to hastily pull them out again when Ace chucked something over the railing at her.

“Think fast!” he laughed as he watched how Quartz fumbled with whatever he had unceremoniously thrown at her. When she finally managed to clamp her hands over the object, she scowled up at the commander. That, until she heard the faint metallic clink emanating from her hands. Mildly curious, she took a good look at what she actually caught.

It was a small pouch made from brown leather, closed off with an orange sash at the top. Sensing it’s weight, Quartz shook it slightly, hearing the jingle of coins and rustle of notes – a money pouch. She stared at it, asking herself why Ace would give her such a valuable item and how _dumb_ he exactly was to actually entrust _her_ with it.

“We all get our own allowance and budget for our divisions,” Ace explained from above, leaning on the railing with his crossed arms, “and since you haven’t been assigned to a _specific_ division _yet_ –“

_Oh no_.

Quartz knew exactly where this conversation was going to go. The familiar prickle of panic rose within her chest – what the hell was she going to say? She still felt like she was walking on eggshells around Ace, even after she had apologised. Her hands gripped the pouch tighter.

“Okay, yeah, sounds great,” Quartz interrupted him with an embarrassing word vomit, before promptly turning on her heel, dashing towards the town and yelling over her shoulder; “Anyway, thanks for the money, _bye, Fire Snot!_ ”

As she booked it, she could still clearly hear Ace’s indignant “ _Hey! And it’s Fire Fist!_ ” before passing a turning Marco, who barely registered who exactly was making a mad dash past him.

“What the– Quartz?” he asked almost incredulously, before calling after her. “Remember, we leave in three days, don’t be late!”

Quartz didn’t stop.

_Three days, huh_ , she thought almost absentmindedly as she raced down the streets, ignoring the curious looks she got.

_I dunno about that…_

 

* * *

 

Two days.

Two days have passed since they’ve docked at Lobelia Island. Two days since Quartz shamelessly grabbed Ace’s money and simply ran for it. Two days since Marco told her they’d leave in three. Two days since Quartz had stepped a foot onto the Moby Dick.

Two days full of emotional turmoil, self-directed anger, inexplicable irritation and an indescribable guilt that made everything worse. A whole lot of emotional baggage, that was the main cause on why Quartz was now lying face down on the damp floorboards of an abandoned shack she had found in the forest near the town. The small wooden shack was already on the verge of falling apart, musty smelling and overgrown with moss and Quartz couldn’t care less how the smell of rotten wood irritated her sensitive nose, not with how miserable she felt right now.

Of course she hadn’t been assigned to a division yet – Quartz had already made up her mind that she wouldn’t stay that long for it to actually happen. To be actually part of the crew. To be a Whitebeard Pirate.

With an annoyed groan, she lazily turned herself over onto her back to stare at the caved in roof above her, the old wood already riddled with holes. She had planned to get some wood to fix them, if she’s going to stay here that is. Closing her eyes, she brought her hands up to her face before rubbing it in frustration.

She had _promised_ herself not to get attached – hell, it was one of her _rules_ , dammit, to never stay in one place for too long to prevent that kind of emotional attachment. Such a thing was too troublesome, too fragile, too risky and Quartz can’t afford getting her heart broken all over again. And yet, remembering all the smiles, the laughter, the wind in her face, the stars above, the warm hand ruffling through her hair, the calls of her name both exasperated and fond at the same time – she wanted that.

Quartz bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling, turning onto her side to curl up as if to hide away from the world. It _scared_ her, it had always scared her when she got too close, when she let others get too close. It was so much easier for her to break it all with her own hands and run away, to ruin whatever kindness was given to her so she could just escape without looking back. Breaking others hearts was easier to handle than the own. It was survival.

_You could start living instead._

Quartz squeezed her eyes shut, willing the suspicious burn of tears away. She can’t. She just– _she can’t_. They’ll forget her soon enough, she’ll be just another memory. Even if she would join, they’ll get tired of her, or even worse, find out what’s really going on. They’ll betray her, just like everyone else did, and she can’t go through something like that again. Quartz barely recovered from… _them_.

_But you want go with them_.

Yes. Yes, she wanted to run back to the ship, wanted to see Ace’s sunny grin again, to hear Thatch’s incredible stories, to listen to Haruta’s youthful snickers, to work alongside Blenheim, to smell Izo’s pleasant perfume of lavender and most of all, she wanted to stand next to Marco again, just so he could card his hand through her hair once more.

And the mere thought of this longing, it scared her endlessly.

 

* * *

 

When Quartz travelled back into town, dusk had already fallen, painting the sky with various shades of orange and red with the far horizon already turning pink. Cautiously, she slinked through the various alleyways, sticking to the shadows with practised ease, unwilling to accidentally stumble into Whitebeard members no doubt roaming the island. It was easy for her to fall back into her shadow-following rhythm, ducking silently behind and next to people, who barely paid her any attention, but when they did – she’s already moved on onto another unsuspecting person. Like a ghost, she wandered through the town, doing her best to memorise smart alleyway patterns and interesting shops. She passed a pub, ears perking up at the familiar sound of Thatch’s raucous laughter filtering through the noise of the public. Quartz immediately quickened her steps.

Few days ago when they docked, Quartz had spotted a rather secluded beach closer to the other end of the town. She hadn’t had the chance to scout that particular area before, it would make a great hiding spot; a good mix of woods and water, would probably have plenty of fishing spots and it sat close to the docks in case of an impromptu evacuation. Entering the said woods, she relaxed almost instantly; it felt good walking amongst the trees, low branches with their leaves brushing against her like a welcome caress, fallen sticks crunching beneath the soles of her black flats and the fresh smell of wilderness all around.

Reaching the edge, which ended in a small cliff, Quartz soon spotted a small walkway leading down to the beach. It was a natural path, brown earth exposed and trampled solid by the many feet of previous visitors over the years. When her foot hit the sand, a breeze full of salt and sea greeted her and she followed it, occasionally bending down to paw at the sand whenever she saw a particularly pretty seashell sticking out. Quartz walked on for a while, suddenly crouching down to dig in the sand – she soon fished out a small, thin conch shell. It had a white undertone with a brown pattern and seemed to be in a pretty good condition, so she pocketed it, only to freeze in her movements when she spotted something up ahead not far from her.

Or rather, spotted _someone_.

An unexpected wave of deja-vu overcame her as she stared at Whitebeard sitting on a flat boulder near the shore, familiar tankard in one hand as he gazed out into the sea. His expression was something akin to relaxation, yet solemn and his eyes seemed far away. Well, at least Quartz _hoped_ they were far away, because she immediately took a step back, slowly making her retreat.

“You sure know how to make people worry, not, brat?”

_Goddammit_.

As if on autopilot, her features schooled themselves into her usual stoic expression, chin tucking under her collar as her hands buried themselves within her pockets. With dark eyes, she held Whitebeard’s amber gaze and didn’t say anything. The old man didn’t seem to mind too much.

“Could’ve at least left a note,” he instead suggested, taking a gulp from his tankard and Quartz’ nose wiggled slightly. Sake again. “Would’ve spared poor Marco from at least 3 of his 5 conniptions he nearly went through.”

Quartz winced against her better will and Whitebeard chuckled at the small movement. A small silence entered, which didn’t seem to bother the man in the slightest, while Quartz could feel the telltale urge to fidget.

“So,” The silence was broken by Whitebeard once again and the kid zeroed her attention back on him. “I suppose you won’t be joining us after all.”

It was more of a statement instead of a question – weirdly enough, he didn’t sound defeated. It was as if he just told her a completely logical fact. She didn’t know how to feel about that, but her shoulders squared anyway.

“…looks like it,” she said carefully, “unless you decide to drag me back again like before.”

There was a mildly amused huff and Whitebeard set his tankard down onto his propped up knee.

“No. If leaving is what you have decided, then who am I to take that choice away from you.” he announced and Quartz just stared at him, almost dumbfounded.

_Don’t say anything stupid_.

“But why?!”

_Are you serious_.

Even Whitebeard looked mildly confounded at her sudden outburst and Quartz was seriously starting to contemplate taking a knife to her tongue at this point. However, the impulsive part of her betrayed her once again.

“You’re said to be the _Strongest Man In The World_ , the _Man Closest To One Piece_! You literally have every power to take that choice from me!” she ranted and by god, she _really_ needed to _shut up_. “You command a ship with 1600 men and women, and probably even more from what I’ve heard! You can destroy entire islands, maybe even conquer all of New World, you’re an Emperor of the Sea and your ship is literally the biggest thing I’ve ever seen and– you have 16 commanders at your disposal, you– you’re literally the government’s _nightmare_! And yet–“

Whitebeard watched how the girl gestured wordlessly with her hands, seemingly out of words as she tried to pluck them out of thin air.

“This whole son-daughter thing– and how everyone calls you _Pops_ or _Oyaji_ or _Father_ or whatever, I just don’t–“ Quartz violently waved her hands around as if to punctuate her frustration, “you can crush anyone who disobeys you like a bug into the dust, but here you are, some fawned at parental figure of grown men and women in some crazy backwards patchwork family mentality, I– _how_?!”

_How have you not gotten rid of me yet_.

This time, Quartz truly expected him to get angry at her, so she stared at him, heart going wild within her chest. And then, it almost stopped, when Whitebeard _smiled_ at her. So genuinely happy with gentle mirth twinkling in his old eyes.

“Because it’s my dream,” he told her fondly, patiently, and Quartz’ tight shoulders sagged in wonder that she couldn’t conceal. “to have a family to call my own, that is my dream. So know, even if you leave, you will always have a place with us.”

Quartz had so many questions.

_Why would you_?

So many.

_How could you_?

She wasn’t sure where to begin.

_To offer something so special to someone as rotten as me_?

“You don’t know me,” was the only thing that slipped over her lips, voice cracking slightly. Whitebeard only continued to smile at her.

“We’re all children of the sea, my dear,”

The sun had almost sunk completely behind the horizon, bathing everything in a soft orange glow and making Whitebeard’s eyes appear so much brighter. The open honesty and fondness in his face was too much for Quartz and she hastily turned her stunned gaze away. She didn’t know what to say. But the man next to her seemed to have moved on with the conversation.

“What a magnificent sunset,” he marvelled, now grinning again, “in all my years at sea, I could never get tired of these sights.”

Dark eyes watched how the sun finally vanished beneath the ocean, the last of the warm rays replaced by the growing colour of purple and blue and Quartz could already spot the few stars blinking awake in the descending night sky. Gingerly, she brought a hand up against her sternum, feeling the rosary press into her skin. Quartz could feel a wall around her heart crumble.

“Yeah…” she muttered, her quiet voice carried away by the ocean breeze.

 

* * *

 

It was already well into the night when Izo left the pub – as fun as the night with his brothers was, he’d rather not skip out on his nightly beauty routine. It was also a great way to wind down, Izo was truly looking forward to it as he made his way down to the docks, when a swift shadow descended in front of him. Despite his initial yelp, his hand automatically flew to the pistol hanging from his sash, ready to confront whatever had jumped from a nearby roof. The familiar mop of purple hair however, made him hesitate.

“…Quartz?” Izo said almost incredulously, before his face went stern, “Goodness gracious, Quartz, don’t do that, I could’ve riddled you full of bullets right now. Also, where _were_ you? We’ve been worried ever since you didn’t return the first night and–“

“Izo,” she interrupted him and the fact that she had actually used his _name_ to address him, was enough to startle him into silence. Big round eyes stared at him for a while, unreadable.

“I–“ Quartz started, only to hesitate and break off eye contact. She then took a deep breath. “I need a favour…please.”

The elder blinked at her in surprise. Then, he hastily reached forward to place a hand onto her forehead, which was kind of a stupid move in hindsight since her bandanna was in the way, as if to take her temperature.

“A-Are you running a fever?” he asked almost shrilly, because Quartz? Needing a favour? And saying _please_ unprompted? This was unheard of. At the hasty movement, Quartz had taken a step back in surprise before registering Izo’s words. Face pinched in irritation, she batted his hand away.

“No! I’m not sick! I just–“ she grumbled, cheeks now suspiciously pink as if she was embarrassed about something. “Just listen, okay?”

Izo stared at her, lips pursed, but nodded anyway. Quartz sighed, her eyes still refusing to meet the other as she looked to the side with her hands in her pockets. Then, she began to talk, looking increasingly more embarrassed with every passing second. The more she talked, the more Izo’s eyes began to twinkle.

And he started to grin.


	11. in which dawn breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chased around and seemingly living on borrowed time, Quartz had never taken the time to see a sunrise before. But, she has an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations everyone!
> 
> OH MAN OH MAN– HERE WE ARE, here is the final chapter to sundown, sunrise – Part 1 of the Tiger Cub series!! Guys, I'm super excited – not much for the fact that sundown, sunrise is ending, but for the fact that I've already started on the first chapter of the 2nd part!! I WAS SUPER EAGER!!
> 
> But First; a big THANK YOU to all of you who stuck with the story, with Quartz and her overly rude attitude. Your lovely words were such an encouragement to my writing and never failed to motivate me and make my day sweeter, thank you so much! I hope to see you in the 2nd instalment of Tiger Cub – innocence and experience.  
> AND, of course I hope that you all will enjoy this last chapter before we continue on with Quartz' journey; read End Notes for a small surprise!
> 
> Thank you all, it was such a pleasure to introduce Quartz to all of you <3  
> Have a wonderful day and take care!  
> – Crow

* * *

 

 

Seagulls screeched above the Moby Dick, travelling on the sea breeze under the bright noon sun. The sky was a clear blue with little to no clouds in sight – truly, a beautiful day to set sail from Lobelia, but Ace had a different opinion on that one. He sighed, mouth thinning out into a grim half-pout as he pillowed his chin on his crossed arms leaning on the railing. His eyes searched the entire dock before him once more.

“Anything yet?”

A shadow towered over his previously sunshine exposed back and Ace shook his head slightly.

“Nope,” he said, “still nothing of Quartz.”

He heard Begonia sigh as she placed a hand onto the railing, cocking her hip a little. Behind them, the crew bustled busily around on deck as they prepared for departure. Without Quartz as it seemed – the thought made Ace’s stomach churn. Begonia made a disappointed sound next to him.

“A shame, really,” she said almost mournfully, gaze set onto the town they were about to leave. “I think she would’ve fit in beautifully with us.”

“She’ll be here,” Ace murmured into his arm, brows furrowing, “I know she’ll be here.”

He didn’t notice the soft but sad look the Kuja sent him, before she cleared her throat slightly.

“Well, I bet _this_ guy could use the encouragement,” Ace looked up to see her point with her chin at someone behind him. Turning slightly, he spotted Marco not too far away from him, dutifully directing the crew members to their various tasks. The man looked tired however, more so than usual.

“He had been worrying since the first night,” Begonia continued, toothpick switching from left to right. “Me thinks the poor guy will pass out any second now, he seemed pretty fond of the kid.”

“Pretty much,” Ace sighed, turning back towards the docks, “he was the only one who made any kind of progress with Quartz.”

Begonia looked down at him, quirking an eyebrow.

“What’d he do? Mother-henned her into submission?” Despite the rather somber mood, Ace snorted lightly, joining into the good-natured chuckles until Begonia pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Was he really the only one though? You seemed somewhat close with her too.”

Ace shrugged, “I guess? I don’t know, she’s hard to read to be honest; one moment she’s trying to pick a fight with everyone, the next she’s skittish like some wounded animal. Marco was usually the one to figure things out with her.”

“What about Pops?” the Kuja asked, almost bewildered, “Having a talk with him worked wonders on you.”

“I–“ Ace narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the elder, lightly pouting into the crook of his arm. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Begonia waved him off airily with a snigger and the younger huffed.

“As I was saying,” he continued almost snootily, it made her chuckle again, “we didn’t see much of her, she’d usually stay in Blenheim’s workshop and then maybe somewhere on deck or in the galley during mealtimes. Otherwise…she’s like a ghost – I don’t know if Oyaji ever had a word with her.”

The Kuja hummed, setting her hazel eyes towards the docks again, hoping to catch a glimpse of a familiar mop of purple hair somewhere. The sound of approaching geta sandals made her turn back however, and she spotted Izo strutting past the two of them, humming contently to himself. Most likely because he donned a brand-new kimono in a dark peach colour, covered with a tasteful floral pattern.

“Well, at least someone’s happy,” Ace muttered as he watched Izo join Marco’s side, red painted lips curled into a delightful smile. Begonia squinted.

“Come to think of it,” she started, looking suspicious, “he’d been in a great mood since he came back yesterday, even after he yelled at everyone not to enter his room.”

The commander just shrugged, unwilling to further participate in the conversation, face going back to the sullen look as he laid his chin onto his folded arms again. Begonia gently patted his shoulder, before pushing off the railing to help out the crew, promptly picking up two barrels on the way. Upon seeing her captain making his way towards his chair, she quickly sidestepped him and shot him a bright smile when she marched past him.

“Greetings Pops!”

He gave her a grin of his own, eyes twinkling with mirth as he tilted his head slightly.

“Hello, my dearest,” he greeted, carefully wading through the sea of his crew members to get to his seat. Of course, his children immediately made way for their captain, cheerfully calling after him. When he got to his seat, he already saw the few nurses gathered around it, awaiting his arrival. With a deep sigh, he lowered himself into his seat, smiling at his nurses, who swarmed him as soon as he sat down. They performed their usual check up, giggling all the while whenever Whitebeard cracked a little joke, until Marcostepped closer, followed by Izo.

“Hi Marco-san,” the twins June and July greeted the phoenix, sending him identical smiles of both charm and happiness. The man smiled back at them, albeit weakly.

“Hey,” he said a little tiredly before turning to his captain, “we’re all set, Pops. Everything’s ready for departure and everyone’s back onboard – well, most of ‘em…”

The nurses exchanged confused looks, not overly used to the normally composed 1st commander to trail off like that. Whitebeard only hummed, almost lost in thought as he reached for his bisento leaning close to his chair.

“Well then,” the man announced, raising his voice to be heard all around before slamming down the end of his weapon onto the wooden planks. “Raise the sails! We’re off!”

“ _What?!_ ”

An incredulous voice rang out amongst the many men and women rushing to get to their posts and not a second later, Ace shoved himself forward to Whitebeard’s seat, looking visibly upset. Marco sighed, knowing what was to come. Honestly, he was not in the mood right now, especially after he felt how the ship was set in motion.

“Oyaji, Quartz isn’t here yet!” Ace protested loudly and worried murmur broke out between the nurses. Whitebeard, however, stared his son down, unyielding as the wind around them picked up.

“She had enough time to make it back, we cannot wait forever, my son,”

“But–!”

The man raised his hand, “She has made her decision.”

That shut the younger up immediately and Ace’s previously tense shoulders sagged in disbelief as he stared at his captain with wide eyes. Marco had snapped his head around at the sentence, looking almost stricken.

“You found her?” he questioned, sounding almost betrayed, it made Whitebeard’s heart twinge; his son had obviously grown fond of the youngest. And he wasn’t the only one, judging by how rapidly Ace’s face changed from disbelief to crestfallen to anger before finally settling on a stiff grimace, lips pressed together into a thin line.

“She didn’t even bother to say goodbye…” he mumbled bitterly. Next to him, Izo whipped open his paper fan, idly fanning himself.

“What for?” the gunslinger asked idly as if they were talking about the weather and Ace almost gaped at his nonchalance. Even Marco sent him a vaguely affronted look.

“ _What the hell_ , Izo–!“ the freckled commander started, when a familiar snarky voice piped up behind him.

“Yeah, why bother, Fire Breath,”

Ace whirled around just in time with Marco, while Izo smirked mischievously behind his paper fan. Even Whitebeard perked up slightly and June and July gasped, instinctively clasping each others hands, when the growing crowd in front of them parted slightly.

With hands buried within the pockets of her teal jacket, purple hair dancing lightly in the wind and dark circle eyes peering from underneath a maroon bandanna, Quartz emerged from the crowd, looking as bothered as ever. At the gawking looks, she scrunched up her nose slightly.

“What’cha all gaping at?” she sneered, looking mildly embarrassed, “I’m just a little late, who hasn’t.”

“I–“ Marco began, suddenly feeling a little breathless, because she’s _here_. Quartz was here with them on the Moby Dick after having disappeared for three whole days. “You’re here!”

Quartz gave him a disgruntled look, “I can see that too, Pineapple.” Despite the crude tone in her voice, she averted her eyes to the side, while Ace just pointed at her, his mouth opening and closing every few seconds as if he wasn’t really comprehending that the brat was back. Izo sniggered quietly, watching with delight dancing in his dark eyes how Haruta’s eyes widened behind Quartz, immediately nudging Thatch next to them to discreetly point at the youngest in front of them. Thatch’s eyes almost bulged and he gasped soundlessly.

“ _Gurararah!_ ” Whitebeard’s thundering laugh almost shook the entire ship, intimidating as it was jolly. The man grinned, bisento still in hand as he leaned forward, free arm propped onto his knee with his amber eyes glinting in the sun. “I see you’ve made your choice, brat.”

Quartz craned her neck a little to stare up at the fabled Strongest Man In The World, dark eyes lacking the usual heat. Instead, it had been replaced with a stoic and unreadable look, but something unknown shimmered within them.

 

( _Oh young heart, you’ve been so scared, so lonely, and yet you’ve lasted so long._ )

 

_“We’re all children of the sea.”_

 

( _Young heart, full of rage and full of tears, will you finally be kind to yourself?_ )

 

Her heart thudded within her chest, nervous as she stared Whitebeard down with as much conviction as she could muster.

“Yeah, I’ve made my choice,” Quartz finally declared, loud and clear so everyone around her could hear it, before whipping a hand out to point at the captain. “No take-backs!”

Whitebeard laughed again, “I would never, dearest daughter!”

 

( _There is a risk, the one you fear so much._ )

 

“D-Don’t flatter yourself!” the kid almost squeaked, cheeks dipped into a suspicious pink as she crossed her arms and petulantly turned her head away. “I didn’t do it for you– I mean, _anyone_ on this stupi– on this ship! It’s– It’s a logical and tactical idea that I’ve taken advantage of!”

 _How transparent_ , the crew thought as they listened to Quartz rant in an act to save herself from losing face, her cheeks growing rosier with every second. Thatch shook his head in amusement, arm propped up on Haruta’s shoulder, who sniggered. Blenheim grinned, same as Fossa and Curiel, while Namur only rolled with his eyes, causing Jiru to snicker. Amongst the crew, Begonia smiled almost proudly and Paya delicately brought a hand up to her cheek with a soft but entertained “ _my oh my,_ ”, smiling serenely all the while. And Marco – Marco couldn’t help but snort slightly, further embarrassing the teen, who bared her teeth at him. Ace straight up guffawed.

“What kinda shitty excuse was that?!”

“Shut it, Fire Toe!” Quartz partially screeched and the 2nd commander stomped one foot forward, raising a fist, now yelling just as loud.

“ _It’s Fire Fist!_ ”

Whitebeard threw his head back, jolly laugh spilling over the deck, supported by the cheers and hoots of his crew; they welcomed a new daughter and sister today, their youngest, with a temper like dynamite and a ferocity that could shake the seas – truly, a Whitebeard in the making.

 

( _But the risk is worth it._ )

 

Quartz growled, face crimson at the joyful laughter, the cheered “ _Welcome to the crew!_ ”, and the fact that there was a light feeling rising in her chest. It made her heart pound, but not in fear, not in anxiety, but in a more elated way she didn’t dare to spell out even in her own thoughts. She tucked her chin beneath her collar to hide her quivering bottom lip – Quartz felt _excited_. Her face burned.

“You– You’re all way too loud!” she complained, stuffing her hands back into her pockets with an embarrassed huff, amusing the captain and his first two commanders further – that was until she turned around to stomp off. Marco’s eyebrows nearly flew up to his hair line, while Whitebeard let go of an incredibly pleased hum and Ace – he just stared, astonished face frozen in place as he watched Quartz’ retreating figure, Whitebeard’s mark emblazoned onto the teal fabric of the back of her jacket. Distantly, he recalled how the same symbol was tattooed onto his own back and a shit-eating grin spread on his face. He cupped his hands around his mouth.

“The mark looks great on you!” he teased her loudly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I like where you put it!”

“Shut–! _Shut your mouth_! It was Izo’s idea!” was the shrieked response and Quartz hurried through the cheering crowd, who now rallied for a full-blown party. The crew swallowed their newest member up and their captain chuckled. Marco turned towards Izo, eyes squinting suspiciously but with a grin tugging at his lips.

“You did that?” he questioned and Izo let out a graceful laugh, snapping his paper fan shut.

“This brat,” he chided in humour, shooting Ace a small smile as he continued in a softer voice. “It was her idea – I only stitched the mark onto her jacket because she asked me to.”

 

( _“Izo, I need a favour…please.” Quartz pressed through her teeth, looking incredibly embarrassed. Izo motioned her to continue, so she talked._

_“The old man’s mark…can you– can you stitch it onto my jacket?” The request fell into a whisper, a small glimpse of the vulnerability Quartz tried to hide away behind her stoic mask. Izo’s eyes widened, shimmering in joy underneath the pale light of the street lanterns and his painted lips stretched into a bright smile._

_“Of course I can,” he said softly, “where do you want me to stitch it on?”_

_Quartz went quiet for a while and to the commander, she looked almost shy. Then, she untucked her chin from her collar to answer in the same quiet voice;_

_“On my back.”_ )

 

“Welp, if that isn’t a show of blatant favouritism!” Thatch proclaimed loudly, appearing next to Ace and slinging his arm over the younger’s shoulders. Despite the words, he grinned brightly, before side-eyeing Marco. “Looks like you got competition in being the Favourite Brother, eh, Marco?”

The blonde rolled his eyes skyward as Thatch and Haruta cackled, followed by Whitebeard’s own snicker. The captain surveyed his rambunctious children before gazing up into the sky, closing his eyes as the sun hit his face, warming his cheeks. He smiled.

“What a wonderful day to set sail.”

 

* * *

 

Quartz couldn’t believe those idiots actually threw a party solely for her new status as an official Whitebeard Pirate. How embarrassing. But she also got to see half of the crew drinking themselves into a piss-drunk state and from there, it got a whole lot more _interesting_ , so there was at least some sort of compensation.

The party itself wasn’t all _that_ bad; there was plenty of food, which meant plenty of chicken and peaches, and after the alcohol was introduced to the feast, everyone got too busy outdrinking each other to pay further attention to her. Quartz had taken the chance to slink off, finding herself a comfortable niche to squish herself into, heartily devouring all the peaches she had nabbed from the banquet. The party had lasted well into night and at some point, while listening to the cheers and drunken songs and watching the crew’s shadows dance against the warm light, Quartz had fallen asleep, lulled by the sea.

When she woke up, it was already early morning and she was still squished comfortably into her little niche. Yawning, Quartz crawled out of her spot, blinking at the few bodies strewn across deck, that apparently never made it to their bunks. Absentmindedly, she scratched off the dried peach pit that had somehow gotten stuck on her cheek – Quartz flicked it off and snickered quietly when it bounced off on a random crew member, making him mumble in his sleep as he batted away some invisible fly. With practiced ease and grace, she meandered her way through the few sleeping bodies, steps near silent.

The sky was still dark, but she could spot the horizon dissolving into a waking purple. Coming to a halt next to the main mast, hand resting against the pleasantly cool wood, Quartz saw Marco walking up ahead, a surprisingly peppy Haruta close at his heel. The morning crew filtered on deck, now more less dubbed as the cleaning crew, judging by how they hauled their unconscious crew mates to bed. A wind passed, stretching the sails as the mast creaked at the manoeuvre and tugged at Quartz’ jacket – she could feel the barely there weight of Whitebeard’s mark against her back.

_So, that really happened, huh?_

She released the grip she had on the wood of the mast to instead walk over to the railing. Looking over the edge, she saw the waves lapping at the walls of the Moby Dick. Gaze wandering up again, she stared into the awakening horizon, slowly chasing away the purple with shimmers of golden orange. Inhaling the fresh sea breeze playing with her hair, she closed her eyes, feeling the first ray of the sun touch her eyelids. Behind her, she could hear the ship coming to life, rising with the sun, and somewhere, she could distantly hear Marco’s voice calling her name. She exhaled, for the first time, unhurried.

 

( _“She’s not one of us.”_ )

 

( _But I can be someone here._ )

 

Dark eyes opened and purple hair billowed as dawn broke – Quartz had never seen a sunrise this beautiful before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad that it's over? Still curious about little tidbits of Quartz? About her and the crew?
> 
> Why not ask Quartz herself! Find her and her usual shenanigans on Quartz' ask Blog!  
> <https://ask-the-tiger-cub.tumblr.com>
> 
> Don't worry, she won't bite. Much.


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